THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BMOH  ROUCt 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF 
SOCIOLOGY 


BY 

HERBERT    SPENCER 


IN   THREE   VOLUMES 
VOL.    II 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1900 


Authorized  Edition. 


PREFACE  TO  PART  IV; 


Of  the  chapters  herewith  published,  constituting  Part 
IV  of  The  Pnncijyles  of  Sociology,  seven  have  ah-eady  seen 
the  light:  not,  however,  all  of  them  in  England.  For  rea- 
sons which  need  not  be  specified,  it  happened  that  the  chap- 
ter on  Titles  was  not,  like  those  preceding  it,  published  in 
the  Fortnightly  lieview  at  the  same  time  that  it  was  pub- 
lished in  periodicals  in  America,  France,  Germany,  Italy, 
Hungary,  and  Russia;  and  it  is  therefore  new  to  English 
readers.  Five  other  chapters,  namely  Y,  IX,  X,  XI,  and 
XII,  have  not  hitherto  appeared  either  at  home  or  abroad. 

For  deciding  to  issue  by  itself,  this  and  each  succeeding 
division  of  A^ol.  II  of  the  Principles  of  Sociology,  I  have 
found  several  reasons.  One  is  that  each  division,  though 
related  to  the  rest,  nevertheless  forms  a  whole  so  far  dis- 
tinct, that  it  may  be  fairly  well  understood  without  the  rest. 
Another  is  that  large  volumes  (and  Vol.  IT  threatens  to 
exceed  in  bulk  Vol.  I)  are  alarming;  and  that  many  who 
are  deterred  by  their  size  from  reading  them,  will  not  fear 
to  undertake  sej^arately  the  parts  of  which  they  are  com- 
posed. A  tin  I'd  and  chief  reason  is  that  postponement  of 
issue  until  conijdction  of  the  entire  volume,  necessitates  an 
undesirable  delay  in  the  issue  of  its  earlier  divisions:  sub- 
stantially-inde]iendent  works  being  thus  kept  in  manuscript 
much  longer  than  need  be. 

The  contents  of  this  Part  are  not,  indeed,  of  such  kind 
as  to  make  me  anxious  that  publication  of  it  as  a  whole 
should  be  immediate.     But  the  contents  of  the  next  Part, 

*  The  two  parte  of  which  this  volume  consists  having  been  separately  pub- 
lished, each  with  its  preface,  it  seems  most  convenient  here  simply  to  repro- 
duce the  two  prefaces  in  place  of  a  fresh  one  for  the  entire  volume. 

•  V 

653254 


vi  PREFACE. 

treating  of  Political  Institutions,  will,  T  think,  be  of  some 
importance;  and  I  should  regret  having  to  keep  it  in  my 
portfolio  for  a  year,  or  perhaps  two  years,  until  Parts  VI, 
YII,  and  VIII,  included  in  the  second  volume;  were  writ- 
ten.    [Inclusion  of  these  proves  impracticable.] 

On  sundry  of  the  following  chapters  when  published  in 
the  Fortnightly  Review^  a  criticism  passed  by  friends  was 
that  they  w^ere  overweighted  by  illustrative  facts.  I  am 
conscious  that  there  were  grounds  for  this  criticism;  and 
although  I  have,  in  the  course  of  a  careful  revision,  dimin- 
ished in  many  cases  the  amount  of  evidence  given  (adding 
to  it,  however,  in  other  cases)  the  defect  may  still  be  alleged. 
That  with  a  view  to  improved  effect  I  have  not  suppressed  a 
larger  number  of  illustrations,  is  due  to  the  consideration 
that  scientific  proof,  rather  than  artistic  merit,  is  the  end  to 
be  here  achieved.  If  sociological  generalizations  are  to  pass 
out  of  the  stngc  of  opinion  into  the  stage  of  established 
truth,  it  can  only  be  through  extensive  accumulations  of 
instances:  the  inductions  must  be  wide  if  the  conclusions 
are  to  be  accepted  as  valid.  Especially  while  there  contin- 
ues the  belief  that  social  phenomena  arc  not  the  subject-mat- 
ter of  a  Science,  it  is  requisite  that  the  correlations  among 
them  should  be  shown  to  hold  in  miiltitudiiions  cases.  Evi- 
dence furnished  by  various  races  in  various  ])arts  of  the 
world,  must  be  given  before  there  can  be  rebutted  the  alle- 
gation that  the  inferences  drawn  arc  not  true,  or  are  but 
partially  true.  Indeed,  of  social  phenoniena  more  than  all 
other  piienomena,  it  nnist,  because  of  their  complexity,  hold 
that  only  by  comparisons  of  many  examples  can  fundamen- 
tal relations  l)e  distinguished  from  snj)criicial  relations. 

in  ])ursuance  of  an  intention  intiniatcil  in  the  preface  to 
the  first  volume,  I  have  here  adopted  a  method  of  reference 
to  authorities  cited,  which  gives  the  reader  the  opj>ortunity 
of  consulting  them  if  he  wishes,  though  his  attention  to 
them  is  not  solicited.  At  the  eml  <»f  the  vohinie  will  he 
found  the  necflful  clues  to  the  passages  extracted;  pre- 


PREFACE.  vii 


ceded  by  an  explanatory  note.  Usually,  though  not  uni- 
formly, references  have  been  given  in  those  cases  only 
where  actual  quotations  are  made. 

London^  November,  1879, 


PREFACE  TO  PART  Y. 


The  division  of  the  Principles  of  Sociology  herewith  is- 
sued, deals  with  phenomena  of  Evolution  which  are,  above 
all  others,  obscure  and  entangled.  To  discover  what  truths 
may  be  affirmed  of  political  organizations  at  large,  is  a  task 
beset  by  difficulties  that  are  at  once  many  and  great — diffi- 
culties arising  from  unlikenesses  of  the  various  human 
races,  from  differences  among  the  modes  of  life  entailed  by 
circumstances  on  the  societies  formed  of  them,  from  the  nu- 
merous contrasts  of  sizes  and  degrees  of  culture  exhibited  by 
such  societies,  from  their  perpetual  interferences  with  one 
another's  processes  of  evolution  by  means  of  wars,  arid  from 
accompanying  breakings-up  and  aggregations  in  ever- 
changing  ways. 

Satisfactory  acliievement  of  this  task  would  require  the 
lal)ours  of  a  life.  Having  been  able  to  devote  to  it  but  two 
years,  I  feel  that  the  results  set  forth  in  this  volume  must 
of  necessity  be  full  of  imperfections.  If  it  be  asked  why, 
being  thus  conscious  that  far  more  time  and  wider  inves- 
tigation are  requisite  for  the  proper  treatment  of  a  subject 
so  immense  and  involved,  I  have  undertaken  it,  my  reply 
is  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  deal  with  ]V)litical  evolution 
as  a  ])art  of  the  general  Theory  of  Evolution;  and,  with  due 
regard  to  the  claims  of  other  parts,  could  not  make  a  more 
prolonged  ]irc])arati(»n.  Anyone  who  undertakes  to  trace 
the  general  hnvs  of  transformation  which  hold  throughout 
all  orders  of  phenomena,   must  have  but  an  incomplete 


yiii  PREFACE. 

knowledge  of  each  order;  since,  to  acquaint  himself  ex- 
haustively with  any  one  order,  demanding,  as  it  would,  ex- 
clusive devotion  of  his  days  to  it,  would  negative  like  devo- 
tion to  any  of  the  others,  and  much  more  would  negative 
generalization  of  the  whole.  Either  generalization  of  the 
whole  ought  never  to  be  attempted,  or,  if  it  is  attempted,  it 
must  be  by  one  who  gives  to  each  part  such  time  only  as  is 
requisite  to  master  the  cardinal  truths  it  i)re.sonts.  Believ- 
ing that  generalization  of  the  whole  is  supremely  important, 
and  that  no  one  part  can  be  fully  understood  without  it, 
I  have  ventured  to  treat  of  Political  Institutions  after  the 
manner  implied:  utilizing,  for  the  purpose,  the  materials 
which,  in  the  space  of  fourteen  years,  have  been  gathered 
together  in  the  Descriptive  Sociology,  and  joining  with 
them  sucli  further  materials  as,  during  the  last  two  years, 
have  been  accumulated  by  inquiries  in  other  directions, 
made  personally  and  by  proxy.  If  errors  found  in  this  vol- 
ume are  such  as  invalidate  any  of  its  leading  conclusions, 
the  fact  will  show  the  impolicy  of  the  course  I  have  pursued; 
but  if,  after  removal  of  the  errors,  the  leading  conclusions 
remain  outstanding,  this  course  will  be  justified. 

Of  the  chapters  forming  this  volume,  the  first  seven 
were  originally  published  in  the  Fortnujhily  lieview  in 
England;  and,  simultaneously,  in  montlily  ]>eriodicals  in 
America,  France,  and  Germany.  Chapters  VIII  and  IX 
were  thus  published  abroad  but  not  at  home.  Chapters 
XVII  and  XVITI  appeared  hero  in  the  Contemporary  Re- 
view; and  at  the  same  time  in  the  before-mentioned  foreign 
periodicals.  The  remaining  chapters,  X,  XT,  XIT,  XIII, 
XIV,  XV,  XVI,  and  XIX,  now  appear  for  the  first  time; 
with  the  exception  of  chapter  XI,  which  lias  already  seen 
the  light  in  an  Italian  periodical — La  Rivista  di  Filosojla 
Scientifca. 

London^  March,  1882. 


PREFACE  TO  PART  VI. 


Three  years  and  a  half  have  elapsed  since  the  issne  of 
P olitical  Institutions— iho.  preceding  division  of  \\\Qprmci' 
pies  of  Sociology.  Occupation  with  other  subjects  has  been 
one  cause  of  tliis  long  delay;  but  the  delay  has  been  in  a 
much  greater  degree  caused  by  ill-health,  which  has,  during 
much  of  the  interval,  negatived  even  that  small  amount  of 
daily  work  which  I  was  previously  able  to  get  through. 

Two  other  parts  remain  to  be  included  in  Vol.  II — Pro- 
fessional  Institutions  and  Industrial  Institutions.  Whether 
these  will  be  similarly  delayed,  I  cannot  of  course  say.  I 
entertain  hopes  that  they  may  be  more  promptly  completed ; 
but  it  is  possible,  or  even  probable,  that  a  longer  rather  than 
a  shorter  period  will  pass  before  they  appear — if  they  ever 
appear  at  all. 

Bayswater,  October.^  1885. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 


j^OTWiTHSTANDiNG  prccautious,  errors  creep  in  where 
many  pieces  of  evidence  are  given.  The  detection  of  these 
is  a  service  rendered  by  critics  which  is  commonly  of  more 
value  than  other  services  rendered  by  them;  and  which,  in 
some  cases,  partially  neutralizes  their  disservices. 

I  have  myself  had  special  difficulties  to  encounter  in 
maintaining  correctness.  Even  with  unshaken  health,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to  read  the  five  hun- 
dred and  odd  works  from  which  the  materials  for  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Sociology  have  been  extracted;  and,  as  it  is,  having 
been  long  in  a  state  in  which  reading  tells  upon  me  as  much 


X  PREFACE   TO  THE  SECOND   EDITION. 

as  "v\Titing,  I  have  been  obliged  to  depend  mainly  on  the 
compilations  made  for  me,  and  some  years  ago  published 
under  the  title  of  Descriptive  Socioloyy,  joined  with  mate- 
rials collected  by  assistants  since  that  time.  Being  con- 
scious that  in  the  evidence  thus  gathered,  there  would  in- 
evitably be  a  per-centage  of  errors,  I  lately  took  measures  to 
verify  all  the  extracts  containetl  in  the  tirst  volume  of  the 
P  rincipJcft  of  Sociology :  fortunately  obtainiug  the  aid  of  a 
skilled  bibliographer,  ^fr.  Tedder,  the  librarian  of  the 
Athenaeum  Club.  The  result  was  not  unsatisfactory.  For 
though  there  were  found  numy  mistakes,  literal  and  verbal, 
yet  out  of  more  than  2,000  statements  quoted,  two  only  were 
invalidated:  one  losing  its  point  and  the  other  being  can- 
celled. 

AVitli  this  division  of  the  work  1  followed  what  seemed  a 
better  course,  but  not  with  better  result.  While  it  was 
standing  in  type  and  before  any  of  it  was  i)rinted,  I  had  all 
the  extracts  compared  with  the  passages  from  which  they 
were  copied;  and  expected  thus  to  insure  perfect  correct- 
ness. But  though  a]i]iarent  errors  were  removed,  two  un- 
apparent  errors  remained.  In  one  case,  the  gentleman  who 
had  made  for  me  an  extract  from  the  Records  of  the  Past, 
had  misunderstood  a  story  translated  from  the  hieroglyph- 
ics: a  thing  easy  to  do,  since  the  meanings  of  the  translations 
are  often  not  very  clear.  .Vnd  in  the  other  case,  an  extract 
concerning  the  Zulus  had  been  broken  off  too  soon:  the  copy- 
ist not  having,  as  it  seems,  jierceived  that  a  subsequent  sen- 
tence greatly  qualified  the  sense.  T'nfortunately,  when  giv- 
ing instructions  for  the  verification  of  extracts,  I  did  not 
point  out  the  need  for  a  study  of  the  context  in  every  case; 
and  hence,  the  actual  words  quoted  proving  to  be  correctly 
given,  the  errors  of  meaning  passed  unrectified. 

Beyond  removal  of  these  mis-statements,  two  changes  of 
expression  have  been  made  for  the  purpose  of  excluding 
perverse  misinterpretations. 

Bnysvmter^  January  21,  1886. 


CONTENTS   OF   VOL.  II. 


Part  IV.— CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 


CHAP. 

I. — CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL 

II. TROPHIES 

III. MUTILATIONS 

IV. PRESENTS 

V. VISITS 

VI. OBEISANCES 

VII. FORMS    OF    ADDRESS 

VIII. TITLES 

IX. BADGES    AND    COSTUMES 

X. FURTHER    CLASS-DISTINCTIONS 

XI. FASHION    ... 

XII. CEREMONIAL    RETROSPECT    AND    PROSPEC 


36 
52 

83 
108 
116 

159 
179 
198 
210 
216 


Part  v.— political   INSTITUTIONS. 

I. PRELIMINARY 

II. POLITICAL    ORGANIZATION    IN    GENERAL 

III. POLITICAL    INTEGRATION 

IV. POLITICAL    DIFFERENTIATION  ... 

V. ^POLITICAL    FORMS    AND    FORCES 

VI. POLITICAL    HEADS CHIEFS,    KINGS,    ETC 

VII. COMPOUND    POLITICAL    HEADS 

VIII. CONSULTATIVE    BODIES 

IX. REPRESENTATIVE    BODIES 

X. MINISTRIES 

XI. LOCAL    GOVERNING    AGENCIES 

XII. MILITARY    SYSTEMS 


229 

..  2U 

. .  265 

..  288 

..  311 

J. 

..  331 

..  366 

..  397 

..  415 

..  442 

..  451 

..  473 

xu 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

XIII. .lUniCIAL    AND    EXECl'TIVK    SYSTEMS 

XIV. LAWS       ... 

XV. — PROPERTY 

XVI. REVENUE 

XVII. THE    MILITANT    TVl'IO    OF    SOCIKTV 

XVIII. THE    INDUSTRIAL    TYPE    OK    SOCIETY 

XIX. — POLITICAL    RETROSPECT    AND    PROSPECT 


PAOB 

492 
513 

538 
557 
5G8 
(103 
043 


PART  lY. 


CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS^ 


CHAPTEE  I. 

CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL. 

§  343.  If,  disregarding  conduct  that  is  entirely  private, 
we  consider  only  that  species  of  conduct  which  involves 
direct  relations  with  other  persons  ;  and  if  under  the  name 
government  we  include  all  control  of  such  conduct,  however 
arising  ;  then  we  must  say  that  the  earliest  kind  of  govern- 
ment, the  most  general  kind  of  government,  and  the  govern- 
ment which  is  ever  spontaneously  recommencing,  is  the 
government  of  ceremonial  observance.  More  may  be  said. 
This  kind  of  government,  besides  preceding  other  kinds,  and 
besides  having  in  all  places  and  times  approached  nearer  to 
universality  of  influence,  has  ever  had,  and  continues  to 
have,  the  largest  share  in  regulating  men's  lives. 

Proof  that  the  modifications  of  conduct  called  "  man- 
ners "  and  "  behaviour,"  arise  before  those  which  political 
and  religious  restraints  cause,  is  yielded  by  the  fact  that,  be- 
sides preceding  social  evolution,  they  precede  human  evolu- 
tion: they  are  traceable  among  the  higher  animals.  The  dog 
afraid  of  being  beaten,  comes  crawling  up  to  his  master; 
clearly  manifesting  the  desire  to  show  submission.  ,  N'or  is 
it  solely  to  human  beings  that  dogs  use  such  propitiatory  ac- 
tions. They  do  the  like  one  to  another.  All  have  occasion- 
ally seen  how,  on  the  approach  of  some  formidable  I^ew- 
foundland  or  mastiff,  a  small  spaniel,  in  the  extremity  of  its 
terror,  throws  itself  on  its  back  with  legs  in  the  air.  Instead 
of  threatening  resistance  by  growls  and  showing  of  teeth,  as 
it  might  have  done  had  not  resistance  been  hopeless,  it  spon- 


4  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

tuncously  assumes  the  attitude  that  would  result  from  defeat 
in  battle;  tacitly  saying — '^  I  am  conquered,  and  at  your 
mercy."  Clearly  then,  besides  certain  modes  of  behaviour 
expressing  aifection,  which  are  established  still  earlier  in 
creatm*es  lower  than  man,  there  are  established  certain 
modes  of  behaviour  expressing  subjection. 

After  recognizing  this  fact,  we  shall  be  prepared  to 
recognize  the  fact  that  daily  intercourse  among  the  lowest 
savages,  whose  small  loose  groui)s,  scarcely  to  be  called 
social,  are  without  political  or  religious  regulation,  is  under 
a  considerable  amount  of  ceremonial  regulation.  No  rul- 
ing agency  beyond  that  arising  from  personal  superiority, 
characterizes  a  horde  of  Australians  ;  but  every  such  horde 
has  imperative  observances.  Strangei-s  meeting  must  re- 
main some  time  silent;  a  mile  from  an  encampment  ap- 
proach has  to  be  heralded  by  loud  cooeys ;  a  green  bough  is 
used  as  an  emblem  of  peace;  and  brotherly  feeling  is  indi- 
cated by  excliange  of  names.  Similarly  the  Tasmanians, 
equally  devoid  of  government  save  that  implied  by  pre- 
dominance of  a  leader  during  war,  had  settled  ways 
of  indicating  peace  and  defiance.  The  Esquimaux, 
too,  though  without  social  ranks  or  anything  like 
chieftainship,  have  understood  usages  for  the  treatment  of 
guests.  Kindred  evidence  may  be  joined  with  this. 

Ceremonial  control  is  highly  developed  in  many  places 
where  other  forms  of  control  are  but  rudimentary.  The 
wild  Comanche  "  exacts  the  observance  of  his  rules  of  eti- 
quette from  strangers,"  and  "  is  greatly  offended  "  by  any 
breach  of  them.  When  Araucanians  meet,  the  inciuiries, 
felicitations,  and  condolences  which  custom  demands,  are  so 
elaborate  that  "  the  formality  occupies  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes." Of  the  ungoverned  Bedouins  we  read  that  "  their 
manners  are  sometimes  dashed  with  a  strange  ceremonious- 
ness;  "  and  the  salutations  of  Arabs  are  such  that  the 
"  compliments  in  a  well-bred  man  never  last  less  than  ten 
minutes."     "  We  were  particularly  struck,"  says  Living- 


CEREMONY  IN   GENERAL.  5 

stone,  "  with  the  punctiliousness  of  manners  shown  by  the 
Balonda."  "  The  Malagasy  have  many  different  forms  of 
salutation,  of  which  they  make  liberal  use.  .  .  .  Hence  in 
tlieir  general  intercourse  there  is  much  that  is  stiff,  formal, 
and  precise."  A  Samoan  orator,  when  speaking  in  Parlia- 
ment, "  is  not  contented  with  a  mere  word  of  salutation, 
such  as  '  gentlemen,'  but  he  must,  with  great  minuteness, 
go  over  the  names  and  titles,  and  a  host  of  ancestral  refer- 
ences, of  which  they  are  proud." 

That  ceremonial  restraint,  preceding  other  forms  of  re- 
straint, continues  ever  to  be  the  most  widely-diffused  f  onn  of 
restraint,  we  are  shown  by  such  facts  as  that  in  all  inter- 
course between  members  of  each  society,  the  decisively  gov- 
ernmental actions  are  usually  prefaced  by  this  government 
of  observances.  The  embassy  may  fail,  negotiation  may  be 
brought  to  a  close  by  war,  coercion  of  one  society  by  another 
may  set  up  -wider  political  rule  with  its  peremptory  com- 
mands; but  there  is  habitually  this  more  general  and  vague 
regulation  of  conduct  preceding  the  more  special  and  defi- 
nite. So  w^ithin  a  community,  acts  of  relatively  stringent 
control  coming  from  ruling  agencies,  civil  and  religious,  be- 
gin with  and  are  qualified  by,  this  ceremonial  control;  which 
not  only  initiates  but,  in  a  sense,  envelops  all  other.  Func- 
tionaries, ecclesiastical  and  political,  coercive  as  their  pro- 
ceedings may  be,  conform  them  in  large  measure  to  the  re- 
quirements of  courtesy.  The  priest,  however,  arrogant  his 
assumption,  makes  a  civil  salute;  and  the  ofiicer  of  the  law 
performs  his  duty  subject  to  certain  propitiatory  words  and 
movements. 

Yet  another  indication  of  primordialism  may  be  named. 
This  species  of  control  establishes  itself  anew  with  every 
fresh  relation  among  individuals.  Even  between  intimates 
greetings  signifying  continuance  of  respect,  begin  each 
renewal  of  intercourse.  And  in  presence  of  a  stranger,  say 
in  a  railway-carriage,  a  certain  self-restraint,  joined  with 
some  small  act  like  the  offer  of  a  newspaper,  shows  the  spon- 

5!l 


6  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

taneoiis  rise  of  a  propitiatory  behaviour  such  as  even  the 
rudest  of  mankind  are  not  without. 

So  that  the  modified  forms  of  action  caused  in  men  by 
the  presence  of  their  fellows,  constitute  that  comparatively 
vague  control  out  of  which  other  more  definite  controls  are 
evolved — the  primitive  undifferentiated  kind  of  govern- 
ment from  which  the  political  and  religious  governments 
are  differentiated,  and  in  which  they  ever  continue  im- 
mersed. 

§  344.  This  proposition  looks  strange  mainly  because, 
when  studying  less-advanced  societies,  we  carry  with  us  our 
developed  conceptions  of  law  and  religion.  Swayed  by 
them,  we  fail  to  perceive  that  what  we  think  the  essential 
])arts  of  sacred  and  secular  regulations  were  originally  sub- 
ordinate parts,  and  that  the  essential  ])arts  consisted  of  cere- 
monial observances. 

It  is  clear,  d  priori,  that  this  must  be  so  if  social  phenom- 
ena are  evolved.  A  political  system  or  a  settled  cult,  cannot 
suddenly  come  into  existence,  but  implies  pre-established 
subordination.  Before  there  are  laws,  there  must  be  sub- 
mission to  some  potentate  enacting  and  enforcing  them. 
Before  religious  obligations  are  recognized,  there  must  be 
acknowledged  one  or  more  su])crnatural  powers.  Evident- 
ly, then,  the  beha^^our  ex])ressing  ol)e(li(MK'e  to  a  ruler,  visi- 
ble or  invisible,  must  precede  in  time  the  civil  or  religious 
restraints  he  imi)oses.  And  this  inferable  ])recedence  of 
ceremonial  government  is  a  precedence  we  everywhere 
fi.id. 

How,  in  the  political  s])licre,  fulfilment  of  forms  im])ly- 
ing  subordination  is  the  ])riui;irv  thing,  early  Kuroi)ean  his- 
tory shows  us.  During  times  when  the  (piestion,  who 
should  be  master,  was  in  course  of  settlement,  now  in  small 
areas  and  now  in  larger  areas  uniting  them,  there  was  scarce- 
ly any  of  the  regulation  M-liifh  developed  civil  government 
brings;  but  there  was  insistance  on  allegiance  humbly  ex- 


CEREMONY   IN  GENERAL.  7 

pressed.  While  e^cli  man  was  left  to  guard  himself,  and 
blood-feuds  between  families  were  unchecked  b}'  the  central 
])Ower — while  the  right  of  private  vengeance  was  so  well 
recognized  that  the  Salic  law  made  it  penal  to  carry  off  ene- 
mies' heads  from' the  stakes  on  which  they  were  exhibited 
near  the  dwellings  of  those  who  had  killed  them ;  there  was 
a  rigorous  demanding  of  oaths  of  iidelity.to  political  supe- 
riors and  periodic  manifestations  of  loyalty.  Simple 
homage,  growing  presently  into  liege  homage,  was  paid  by 
smaller  rulers  to  greater;  and  the  vassal  who,  kneeling  un- 
girt  and  swordless  before  his  suzerain,  professed  his  subjec- 
tion and  then  entered  on  possession  of  his  lands,  was  little 
interfered  with  so  long  as  he  continued  to  display  his  vas- 
salage in  court  and  in  camp.  Refusal  to  go  through  the  re- 
quired observances  was  tantamount  to  rebellion;  as  at  the 
present  time  in  China,  where  disregard  of  the  forms  of  be- 
haviour prescribed  towards  each  grade  of  officers,  "  is  con- 
sidered to  be  nearly  equivalent  to  a  rejection  of  their  author- 
ity." Among  peoples  in  lower  stages  this  connexion  of  so- 
cial traits  is  still  better  shown.  The  extreme  ceremonious- 
ness  of  the  Tahitians,  '"  appears  to  have  accompanied  them 
to  the  temples,  to  have  distinguished  the  homage  and  the 
service  they  rendered  to  their  gods,  to  have  marked  their 
affairs  of  state,  and  the  carriage  of  the  people  toward  their 
rulers,  to  have  pervaded  the  whole  of  their  social  inter- 
course." Meanwhile,  they  were  destitute  "  of  even  oral 
laws  and  institutes:  "  there  was  no  public  administration  of 
justice.  Again,  if  any  one  in  Tonga  neglected  the  proper 
salute  in  presence  of  a  superior  noble,  some  calamity  from 
the  gods  was  expected  as  a  punishment  for  the  omission; 
and  Mariner's  list  of  Tongan  virtues  commencc^s  with  "  pay- 
ing respect  to  the  gods,  nobles,  and  aged  persons."  When 
to  this  we  add  his  statement  that  many  actions  reprobated  by 
the  Tongans  are  not  thought  intrinsically  wrong,  but  are 
wrong  merely  if  done  against  gods  or  nobles,  we  get  proof 
that  along  with  high  development  of  ceremonial  control, 


8  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tlic  scntiiiicnts  and  ideas  out  of  which  civil  govcrnmont 
comes  were  but  feebly  developed.  Similarly  in  the  ancient 
American  States.  The  laws  of  the  Mexican  king,  Monte- 
zuma 1.,  mostly  related  to  the  intercourse  of,  and  the  dis- 
tinctions between,  classes.  In  Peru^  "  tlie  most  connnon 
punishment  was  death,  for  they  said  that  a  cul})rit  was  not 
})unislio<.l  for  the.delinciuencies  he  had  committed,  but  for 
having  broken  the  commandment  of  the  Ynca."  There  had 
not  been  reached  the  stage  in  which  the  transgressions  of 
man  against  man  are  the  wrongs  to  be  redressed,  and  in 
which  there  is  consequently  a  ])roportioning  of  penalties  to 
injuries;  but  the  real  crime  was  insubordination:  im|)lying 
that  insistance  on  marks  of  subordination  constituted  the  es- 
sential part  of  government,  in  Japan,  so  elaborately  cere- 
monious in  its  life,  the  same  theory  led  to  the  same  result. 
And  here  we  are  reminded  that  even  in  societies  so  advanVed 
as  our  own,  there  survive  traces  of  a  kindred  early  condition. 
"  Indictment  for  felony,"  says  Wharton,  "  is  [for  a  trans- 
gression] against  the  peace  of  our  \<m\  the  King,  his  crown 
and  dignity  in  general:  "  the  injured  individual  being 
ignored.  Evidently  obedience  was  the  prinuny  recpiire- 
ment,  and  behaviour  expressing  it  the  first  modification  of 
conduct  insisted  on. 

Tieligious  control,  still  better,  perhaps,  than  political 
control,  shows  this  general  truth.  When  we  find  that  rites 
performed  at  graves,  becoming  afterwards  religious  rites 
performed  at  altars  in  temples,  were  at  first  acts  done  for 
the  benefit  of  the  ghost,  either  as  originally  conceived  or  as 
ideally  expanded  into  a  deity — when  we  find  that  the  sacri- 
fices and  libations,  the  immolations  and  blood -offerings  and 
mutilations,  all  begun  to  profit  or  to  please  the  double  of  the 
dead  man,  were  continued  on  larger  scales  where  the  double 
of  the  dead  man  was  especially  feared — when  we  find  that 
fasting  as  a  funeral  rite  gave  origin  to  religious  fasting, 
that  praises  of  the  deceased  and  prayers  to  him  grew  into  re- 
ligious praises  and  prayers;  we  are  shown  why  primitive 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  9 

religion  consisted  almost  wholly  of  propitiatory  observances. 
Though  in  certain  rnde  societies  now  existing,  one  of  the 
propitiations  is  the  repetition  of  injunctions  given  by  the 
departed  father  or  chief,  joined  in  some  cases  with  expres- 
sions of  penitence  for  breach  of  them;  and  though  we  are 
shown  by  this  that  from  the  outset  there  exists  the  germ  out 
of  which  grow  the  sanctified  precepts  eventually  constitut- 
ing important  adjuncts  to  religion;  yet,  since  the  supposed 
supernatural  beings  are  at  first  conceived  as  retaining  after 
death  the  desires  and  passions  that  distinguished  them  dur- 
ing hfe,  this  rudiment  of  a  moral  code  is  originally  but  an  in- 
significant part  of  the  cult:  due  rendering  of  those  ofi^erings 
and  praises  and  marks  of  subordination  by  which  the 
goodwill  of  the  ghost  or  god  is  to  be  obtained,  forming  the 
chief  part.  Everywhere  proofs  occur.     We  read 

of  the  Tahitians  that  "  religious  rites  were  connected  with 
almost  every  act  of  their  lives;  "  and  it  is  so  with  the  unciv- 
ilized and  semi-civilized  in  general.  The  Sandwich  Island- 
ers, along  with  little  of  that  ethical  element  which  the  con- 
ception of  religion  includes  among  ourselves,  had  a  rigorous 
and  elaborate  ceremonial.  Xoting  that  tabu  means  liter- 
ally, "  sacred  to  the  gods,"  I  quote  from  EHis  the  following 
account  of  its  observance  in  Hawaii : — 

"During  the  season  of  strict  tabu,  every  fire  or  light  in  the  island 
or  district  must  be  extinguished ;  no  canoe  must  be  launched  on  the 
water,  no  person  must  bathe ;  and  except  those  whose  attendance  was 
required  at  the  temple,  no  individual  must  be  seen  out  of  doors;  no 
dog  must  bark,  no  pig  must  grunt,  no  cock  must  crow.  .  .  .  On 
these  occasions  they  tied  up  the  mouths  of  the  dogs  and  pigs,  and 
put  the  fowls  under  a, calabash,  or  fastened  a  piece  of  cloth  over  their 
eyes." 

And  how  completely  the  idea  of  transgression  was  associ- 
ated in  the  mind  of  the  Sandwich  Islander  with  breach  of 
ceremonial  observance,  is  sliown  in  the  fact  that  "  if  any  one 
made  a  noise  on  a  tabu  day  ...  he  miist  die."  Through 
stages  considerably  advanced,  religion  continues  to  be  thus 
constituted.     AY  hen  questioning  the  Mcaraguans  concern- 


10  CEREMOXIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ing  tlicir  creed,  Oviedo,  oli(.*itiii<;-  the  fact  lliat  they  confessed 
their  sins  to  an  api)(>intc(l  old  man,  asks  what  sort  of  sins 
they  confessed;  and  the  lirst  chiuse  of  the  answer  is — "  we 
tell  liini  when  we  have  broken  our  festivals  and  not  kept 
them."  Similarly  among  the  Peruvians,  "  the  most  nota- 
ble sin  was  neglect  in  the  service  of  the  huacas  "  [spirits, 
Arc]  ;  and  a  large  part  of  life  was  spent  by  them  in  pro- 
})itiating  the  apotheosized  dead.  How  elaborate  the  observ- 
ances, how  frecjuent  the  festivals,  how  lavish  the  ex})endi- 
ture,  by  which  the  ancient  Egyptians  sought  the  goodwill  of 
supernatural  beings,  the  records  everywhere  prove;  and 
that  with  them  religious  duty  consisted  in  thus  miuistei'ing 
to  the  desires  of  ancestral  ghosts,  deified  in  various  degrees, 
is  shown  by  the  before-quoted  prayer  of  Kameses  to  his 
father  Amnion,  in  which  he  claims  his  heli^  in  battle  because 
of  the  many  bulls  he  has  sacrificed  to  him.  With  the  He- 
brews in  pre-Mosaic  times  it  was  the  same.  As  Kuenen  re- 
marks, the  "  great  work  and  enduring  merit  "  of  ]\Ioses,  was 
that  he  gave  dominance  to  the  moral  element  in  religion. 
In  his  reformed  creed,  "  Jahveh  is  distinguished  from  the 
rest  of  the  gods  in  this,  that  he  will  be  served,  not  merely  by 
sacrifices  and  feasts,  but  also,  nay,  in  the  first  place,  by  the 
observance  of  the  moral  commandments."  That  the  piety  of 
the  Greeks  included  diligent  performance  of  rites  at  tond)s, 
and  that  the  Greek  god  was  especially  angered  by  non-ob- 
servance of  propitiatory  ceremonies,  are  familiar  facts;  and 
credit  with  a  god  was  claimed  by  the  Trojan,  as  by  the 
Egyptian,  not  on  account  of  rectitude,  but  on  account  of  ob- 
lations made;  as  is  shown  by  Chryses'  prayer  to  Apollo. 
So  too,  Christianity,  originally  a  renewed  development  of 
the  ethical  element  at  the  expense  of  the  ceremonial  element, 
losing  as  it  spread  those  early  traits  which  distinguished  it 
from  lower  creeds,  displayed  in  mediteval  Europe,  a  relative- 
ly large  amount  of  ceremony  and  a  relatively  small  amount 
of  morality.  In  the  Kule  of  St.  Benedict,  nine  chapters 
concern  the  moral  and  general  duties  of  the  brothers,  while 


CEREMONY   IN   GENERAL.  H 

thirteen  concern  the  religious  ordinances.  And  how  crimi- 
nality was  ascribed  to  disregard  of  such  ordinances,  the 
following  passage  from  the  Rule  of  St.  Columbanus 
shows : — 

"A  year's  penance  for  him  who  loses  a  consecrated  wafer;  six 
months  for  him  who  suffers  it  to  be  eaten  by  mites ;  twenty  days  for 
him  who  lets  it  turn  red;  forty  days  for  him  who  contemptuously 
flings  it  into  water;  twenty  days  for  him  who  brings  it  up  through 
weakness  of  stomach ;  but,  if  through  illness,  ten  days.  He  who  neg- 
lects his  Amen  to  the  Benedicite,  who  speaks  when  eating,  who  for- 
gets to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  spoon,  or  on  a  lantern  lighted 
by  a  younger  brother,  is  to  receive  six  or  twelve  stripes." 
That  from  the  times  when  men  condoned  crimes  by  building 
chapels  or  going- on  pilgrimages,  down  to  present  times  when 
barons  no' longer  invade  one  another's  territories  or  torture 
Jews,  there  has  been  a  decrease  of  ceremony  alono'  with  an 
increase  of  morality,  is  clear;  though  if  we  look  at  unad- 
vanced  parts  of  Europe,  such  as  Naples  or  Sicily,  we  see 
that  even  now  observance  of  rites  is  in  them  a  much  larger 
component  of  religion  than  obedience  to  moral  rules.  And 
when  we  remember  how  modern  is  Protestantism,  which, 
less  elaborate  and  imperative  in  its  forms,  does  not  habitu- 
ally compound  for  transgression  by  acts  expressing  subordi- 
nation, and  how  recent  is  the  spread  of  dissenting  Prot- 
estantism, in  which  this  change  is  carried  further,  we  are 
shown  that  postponement  of  ceremony  to  morality  charac- 
terizes religion  only  in  its  later  stages. 

Mark,  then,  what  follows.  If  the  two  kinds  of  control 
which  eventually  grow  into  civil  and  religious  governments, 
originally  include  scarcely  anything  beyond  observance  of 
ceremonies,  the  precedence  of  ceremonial  control  over  other 
controls  is  a  corollary. 

§  345.  Divergent  products  of  evolution  betray  their 
kinship  by  severally  retaining  certain  traits  which  belonged 
to  that  from  which  they  were  evolved;  and  the  implication 
is  that  whatever  traits  they  have  in  common,  arose  earlier  in 


12  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

time  than  ilid  the  traits  which  distinguish  them  from  one 
another.  If  fish,  reptiles,  birds,  and  mammals,  all  possess 
vertebral  columns,  it  follows,  on  the  evolution-hypothesis, 
that  the  vertebral  column  became  part  of  the  organization 
at  an  earlier  period  than  did  the  teeth  in  sockets  and  the 
mamnup  which  distinguish  one  of  these  groups,  or  than  did 
the  toothless  beak  and  the  feathers  which  distinguish  an- 
other of  these  groups ;  and  so  on.  Applying  this  principle 
in  the  present  case,  it  is  inferable  that  if  the  controls  classed 
as  civil,  religious,  and  social,  have  certain  common  charac- 
ters, such  characters,  older  than  are  these  now  differentiated 
controls,  must  have  belonged  to  the  primitive  control  out  of 
-which  they  developed.  Ceremonies,  then,  have  the  highest 
antiquity ;  for  these  differentiated  controls  all  exKibit  them. 
There  is  the  making  of  presents:  this  is  one  of  the  acts 
showing  subordination  to  a  ruler  in  early  stages;  it  is  a  re- 
ligious rite,  performed  originally  at  the  grave  and  later  on 
at  the  altar;  and  from  the  beginning  it  has  been  a  means  of 
vertebral  columns,  it  follows,  on  the  evolution-hyjiothesis, 
propitiation  in  social  intercourse.  There  are  the  obei- 
sances: these,  of  their  several  kinds,  serve  to  express  rever- 
ence in  its  various  degrees,  to  gods,  to  rulers,  and  to  private 
persons:  here  the  prostration  is  habitually  seen,  now  in  the 
temple,  now  before  the  monarch,  now  to  a  powerful  man; 
here  there  is  genuflexion  in  presence  of  idols,  rulers,  and  fel- 
low-subjects; here  the  salaam  is  more  or  less  common  to  the 
three  cases;  here  uncovering  of  the  head  is  a  sign  alike  of 
worship,  of  loyalty,  and  of  respect ;  and  here  the  bow  serves 
the  same  three  purposes.  Similarly  with  titles:  father  is 
a  name  of  honour  applied  to  a  god,  to  a  king,  and  to  an  hon- 
oured individual;  so  too  is  lord;  so  are  sundry  other  names. 
The  same  thing  holds  of  humble  speeches:  professions  of 
inferiority  and  obedience  on  the  part  of  the  s]ieaker,  are 
used  to  secure  divine  favour,  the  favour  of  a  ruler,  and  the 
favour  of  a  private  person.  Once  more,  it  is  thus  with 
words  of  praise :  telling  a  deity  of  his  greatness  constitutes  a 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  13 

large  element  of  worship;  despotic  mouarcbs  are  addressed 
in  terms  of  exaggerated  eulogy;  and  where  ceremony  is 
dominant  in  social  intercourse,  extravagant  compliments  are 
addressed  to  private  persons. 

In  many  of  the  less  advanced  societies,  and  also  in  the 
more  advanced  that  have  retained  early  types  of  organiza- 
tion, we  find  other  exam})les  of  observances  expressing  sub- 
jection, which  are  common  to  the  three  kinds  of  control — 
political,  religious,  and  social.  Among  Malayo-Polynesians 
the  offering  of  the  first  fish  and  of  first  fruits,  is  a  mark  of 
respect  alike  to  gods  and  to  chiefs;  and  the  Fijians  make 
the  same  gifts  to  their  gods  as  they  do  to  their  chiefs — 
food,  turtles,  whale's-teeth.  In  Tonga,  "  if  a  great  chief 
takes  an  oath,  he  swears  by  the  god;  if  an  inferior  chief 
takes  an  oath,  he  swears  by  his  superior  relation,  who,  of 
course,  is  a  greater  chief."  In  Fiji,  "  all  are  careful  not  to 
tread  on  the  threshold  of  a  place  set  apart  for  the  gods: 
jjersons  of  rank  stride  over;  others  pass  over  on  their  hands 
and  knees.  The  same  form  is  observed  in  crossing  the 
threshold  of  a  chief's  house."  In  Siam,  "  at  the  full  moon 
of  the  fifth  month  the  Talapoins  [priests]  wash  the  idol 
with  perfumed  water.  .  ,  .  The  people  also  wash  the 
Sancrats  and  other  Talapoins;  and  then  in  the  families 
children  wash  their  ])arents."  China  affords  good  instances. 
"  At  his  accession,  the  Emperor  kneels  thrice  and  bows  nine 
times  before  the  altar  of  his  father,  and  goes  through  the 
same  ceremony  bef(^re  the  throne  on  which  is  seated  the  Em- 
press Dowager.  On  his  then  ascending  his  throne,  the 
great  officers,  marshalled  according  to  their  ranks,  kneel  and 
bow  nine  times."  And  the  equally  ceremonious  Japanese 
furnish  kindred  evidence.  "  From  the  Emperor  to  the  low- 
est subject  in  the  realm  there  is  a  constant  succession  of 
prostrations.  The  former,  in  want  of  a  human  being  supe- 
rior to  himself  in  rank,  bows  humbly  to  some  pagan  idol; 
and  every  one  of  his  subjects,  from  ]irince  to  peasant,  has 
some  person  before  whom  ho  is  bound  to  cringe  and  crouch 


14  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ill  the  dirt:  "  religious,  })()liti('al,  and  social  subordination 
are  expressed  by  the  same  form  of  behaviour. 

Those  indications  of  a  general  truth  which  will  be  abun- 
dantly exemplitied  when  discussing  eatdi  kind  of  ceremonial 
observance,  I  here  give  in  brief,  as  further  showing  that  the 
control  of  ceremony  precedes  in  order  of  evolution  the  civil 
and  religious  controls,  and  must  therefore  be  first  dealt  with. 

§  346.  On  passing  to  the  less  general  aspects  of  ceremoni- 
al government,  we  are  met  by  the  question — How  do  there 
arise  those  modifications  of  behaviour  which  constitute  it? 
Commonly  it  is  assumed  that  they  are  consciously  chosen 
as  symbolizing  reverence  or  respect.  After  their  usual  man- 
ner of  speculating  about  primitive  practices,  men  read  back 
developed  ideas  into  undeveloped  minds.  The  supposition 
is  allied  to  that  which  originated  the  social-contract  theory :  a 
kind  of  conception  that  has  become  familiar  to  the  civilized 
man,  is  assumed  to  have  been  familiar  to  man  in  his  earliest 
state.  But  just  as  little  basis  as  there  is  for  the  belief  that 
savages  deliberately  made  social  contracts,  is  there  for  the 
belief  that  they  deliberately  adopted  symbols.  The 

error  is  best  seen  on  turning  to  the  most  developed  kind  of 
symbolization — that  of  language.  An  Australian  or  a  Fue- 
gian  does  not  sit  down  and  knowingly  coin  a  word;  but  the 
words  he  finds  in  use,  and  the  new  ones  which  come  into  use 
during  his  life,  grow  up  unawares  by  onomatopoeia,  or  by 
vocal  suggestions  of  qualities,  or  by  metaphor  which  some 
observable  likeness  suggests.  Among  civilized  peoples, 
however,  who  have  learnt  that  words  are  symbolic,  new 
words  are  frequently  chosen  to  symbolize  new  ideas.  So, 
too,  is  it  with  written  language.  The  early  Egyptian  never 
thought  of  fixing  on  a  sign  to  represent  a  sound,  but  his  rec- 
ords began,  as  those  of  Xorth  American  Indians  begin  now, 
with  rude  pictures  of  the  transactions  to  be  kept  in  memory; 
and  as  the  process  of  recording  extended,  the  pictures,  abbre- 
viated and  generalized,  lost  more  and  more  their  likenesses 


CEREMONY  IN   GENERAL.  15 

to  objects  and  acts,  until,  under  stress  of  the  need  for  express- 
ing proper  names,  some  of  them  were  used  phonetically,  and 
signs  of  sounds  came  into  existence.  But,  in  our  days,  there 
has  been  reached  a  stage  at  which,  as  shorthand  shows  us, 
special  marks  are  consciously  selected  to  signify  special 
sounds.  The  lesson   taught   is    obvious.     As   it 

would  be  an  error  to  conclude  that  because  we  knowingly 
choose  sounds  to  symbolize  ideas,  and  marks  to  symbolize 
sounds,  the  like  was  originally  done  by  savages  and  by 
barbarians ;  so  it  is  an  error  to  conclude  that  because  among 
the  civilized  certain  ceremonies  (say  those  of  freemasons) 
are  arbitrarily  fixed  upon,  so  ceremonies  were  arbitra- 
rily fixed  upon  by  the  uncivilized.  Already,  in  in- 
dicating the  primitiveness  of  ceremonial  control,  I  have 
named  some  modes  of  behaviour  expressing  subordination 
which  have  a  natural  genesis;  and  here  the  inference  to  be 
drawn  is,  that  until  we  have  found  a  natural  genesis  for  a 
ceremony,  we  have  not  discovered  its  origin.  The  tnith  of 
this  inference  will  seem  less  improbable  on  observing  sundry 
ways  in  which  spontaneous  manifestations  of  emotion  initi- 
ate formal  observances. 

The  ewe  bleating  after  her  lamb  that  has  strayed,  and 
smelling  now  one  and  now  another  of  the  lambs  near  her, 
but  at  length,  by  its  odour,  identifying  as  her  own  one  that 
comes  running  up,  doubtless,  thereupon,  experiences  a  wave 
of  gratified  maternal  feeling;  and  by  repetition  there  is  es- 
tablished between  this  odour  and  this  pleasure,  such  an  asso- 
ciation that  the  first  habitually  produces  the  last :  the  smell 
becomes,  on  all  occasions,  agreeable  by  serving  to  bring  into 
consciousness  more  or  less  of  the  philoprogenitive  emotion. 
That  among  some  races  of  men  individuals  are  similarly 
identified,  the  Bible  yields  proofs.  Though  Isaac,  with 
senses  dulled  by  age,  fails  thus  to  distinguish  his  sons  from 
one  another,  yet  the  fact  that,  unable  to  see  Jacob,  and  puz- 
zled hf  the  conflicting  evidence  his  voice  and  his  hands  fur- 
nished, "  he  smclled  the  smell  of  his  raiment,  and  blessed 


16  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

him,"  shows  that  different  persons,  even  members  of  the 
same  famil^^,  were  perceived  by  the  Hebrews  to  have  their 
specific  odours.  And  that  perception  of  the  odour  possessed 
by  one  who  is  loved,  yiekls  pleasure,  proof  is  given  by  an- 
other Asiatic  race.  Of  a  Mongol  father,  Timkowski  writes: 
— "  He  smelt  from  time  to  time  the  head  of  his  youngest 
son,  a  mark  of  i)aternal  tenderness  usual  among  the  Mon- 
gols, instead  of  embracing."  In  the  Philippine  Islands 
"  the  sense  of  smell  is  developed  ...  to  so  great  a  degree 
that  they  are  able,  by  smelling  at  the  pocket-handkerchiefs, 
to  tell  to  which  persons  they  belong;  and  lovers  at  parting 
exchange  pieces  of  the  linen  they  may  be  wearing,  and  dur- 
ing their  separation  inhale  the  odour  of  the  beloved  being, 
besides  smothering  the  relics  with  kisses."  So,  too,  with  the 
Chittagong-Hill  people,  the  "  manner  of  kissing  is  peculiar. 
Instead  of  pressing  lip  to  lip,  they  place  the  mouth  and  nose 
upon  the  cheek,  and  inhale  the  breath  strongly.  Their 
form  of  speech  is  not  '  Give  me  a  kiss,'  but  '  smell  me.'  " 
Similarly  "  the  Burmese  do  not  kiss  each  other  in  the  west- 
ern fashion,  but  apply  the  lips  and  nose  to  the  cheek  and 
make  a  strong  inhalation."  And  now  note  a  sequence. 
Inhalation  of  the  odour  given  off  by  a  loved  person  coming 
to  be  a  mark  of  affection  for  him  or  for  her,  it  happens  that 
since  men  wish  to  be  liked,  and  are  pleased  by  display  of 
liking,  the  performance  of  this  act  wdiich  signifies  liking, 
initiates  a  com})limentary  observance,  and  gives  rise  to  cer- 
tain modes  of  showing  respect.  The  Sanioans  salute  by 
"  juxtaposition  of  noses,  accompanied  not  by  a  nib,  but  a 
hearty  smell.  They  shake  and  smell  the  hands  also,  es]>e- 
cially  of  a  superior."  And  there  are  like  salutes  among  the 
Esquimaux  and  the  Xew  Zealanders. 

The  alliance  between  sm(dl  and  taste  being  close,  we 
may  naturally  expect  a  class  of  acts  wliicli  arise  from  tast- 
ing, parallel  to  the  class  of  acts  wliicli  smelling  originates; 
and  the  exjiectation  is  fulfilled.  Obviously  the  billing  of 
doves  or  pigeons  and  the  like  action  of  love-birds,  indicates 


CEREMONY   IN  GENERAL.  17 

an  affeetion  which  is  gratified  by  the  gustatory  sensation. 
Xo  act  of  this  kind  on  the  part  of  an  inferior  creature,  as  of 
a  cow  licking  her  calf,  can  have  any  other  origin  than  the 
direct  prompting  of  a  desire  which  gains  by  the  act  satis- 
faction ;  •  and  in  such  a  case  the  satisfaction  is  that  which 
vivid  perception  of  offspring  gives  to  the  maternal  yearning. 
In  some  animals  like  acts  arise  from  other  forms  of  affection. 
Licking  the  hand,  or,  where  it  is  accessible,  the  face,  is  a 
common  display  of  attachment  on  a  dog's  part;  and  when 
we  remember  how  keen  must  be  the  olfactory  sense  by 
which  a  dog  traces  his  master,  we  cannot  doubt  that  to  his 
gustatory  sense,  too,  there  is  yielded  some  impression — an 
impression  associated  with  those  pleasures  of  affection 
which  his  master's  presence  gives.  The  inference 

that  kissing,  as  a  mark  of  fondness  in  the  human  race,  has  a 
kindred  origin,  is  sufficiently  probable.  •  Though  kissing  is 
not  universal — though  the  Kegro  races  do  not  understand  it, 
and  though,  as  we  have  seen,  there  are  cases  in  which  sniff- 
ing replaces  it — yet,  being  common  to  unlike  and  widely- 
dispersed  peoples,  we  may  conclude  that  it  originated  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  analogous  action  among  lower 
creatures.  Here,  however,  we  are  chiefly  concerned  to 
observe  the  indirect  result.  From  kissing  as  a  natural  sign 
of  affection,  there  is  derived  the  kissing  which,  as  a  means  of 
simulating  affection,  gratifies  those  who  are  kissed;  and,  by 
gratifying  them,  propitiates  them.  Hence  an  obvious  root 
for  the  kissing  of  feet,  hands,  garments,  as  a  part  of  cere- 
monial. 

Feeling,  sensational  or  emotional,  causes  muscular  con- 
tractions, which  are  strong  in  proportion  as  it  is  intense; 
and,  among  other  feelings,  those  of  love  and  liking  have  an 
effect  of  this  kind,  which  takes  on  its  appropriate  form.  The 
most  significant  of  the  actions  hence  originating  is  not  much 
displayed  by  inferior  creatures,  because  their  limbs  are 
unfitted  for  prehension;  but  in  the  human  race  its  natural 
genesis  is  sufficiently  manifest.     ]\rentioning  a  mother's 


18  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

embrace  of  her  cliikl,  will  reiuiiul  all  that  the  strength  of  tlie 
embrace  (unless  restrained  to  ])revent  mischief)  measures 
the  strength  of  the  feeling;  and  while  reminded  that  the 
feeling  thus  naturally  vents  itself  in  muscular  actions,  they 
may  further  see  that  these  actions  are  directed-  in  such 
ways  as  to  give  satisfaction  to  the  feeling  by  yield- 
ing a  vivid  consciousness  of  possession.  That  between 
adults  allied  emotions  originate  like  acts,  scarcely  needs  add- 
ing. It  is  not  so  much  these  facts,  however,  as  the 
derived  facts,  which  we  have  to  take  note  of.  Here  is  an- 
other root  for  a  ceremony:  an  embrace,  too,  serving  to  ex- 
press liking,  serves  to  propitiate  in  cases  where  it  is  not  nega- 
tived by  those  observances  wddch  subjection  entails.  It 
occurs  where  governmental  subordination  is  but  little  devel- 
oped. Of  some  Snake  Indians  we  read,  ''  the  three  men 
immediately  leaped  from  their  <Jiorses,  came  up  to  Captain 
Lewis,  and  embraced  him  with  great  cordiality."  ]\Iarcy 
tellf  of  a  Comanche  that,  "  seizing  me  in  his  brawny  arms 
while  we  Avere  yet  in  the  saddle,  and  laying  his  greasy  head 
upon  my  shoulder,  he  inflicted  upon  me  a  most  bruin-like 
squeeze."  And  Snow  says,  the  Fuegian  "  friendly  mode  of 
salutation  was  anything  but  agreeable.  The  men  came 
and  hugged  me,  very  much  like  the  grip  of  a  bear." 

Discharging  itself  in  muscular  actions  wdii(di,  in  cases 
like  the  fore^going,  are  directed  to  an  end,  feeling  in  other 
cases  discharges  itself  in  undirected  muscular  actions.  The 
resulting  changes  are  habitually  i-hythmical.  Each  con- 
siderable movement  of  a  limb  brings  it  to  a  position  at  which 
a  counter-movement  is  easy;  both  because  the  muscles  pro- 
ducing the  counter-movement  are  then  in  the  best  positions 
for  contraction,  and  because  they  have  had  a  brief  rest. 
Hence  the  naturalness  of  striking  the  hands  together  or 
against  other  parts.  We  see  this  as  a  spontaneous  manifesta- 
tion of  pleasure  among  children;  and  we  find  it  giving  ori- 
gin to  a  ceremony  among  the  uncivilized.  Clai)ping  of  the 
hands  is  "  the  highest  mark  of  i-ispect  "  in  Loango;  and  it 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  19 

occurs  with  kindred  meaning  among  the  Coast  Negroes, 
the  East  Africans,  the  Dahomans.  Joined  with  other  acts 
expressing  welcome,  the  people  of  Batoka  "  slap  the  out- 
sides  of  their  thighs;  "  the  Balonda  people,  besides  clapping 
their  hands,  sometimes  "  in  saluting,  drum  their  ribs  with 
their  elbows;  "  while  in  Dahomey,  and  some  kingdoms  on 
the  Coast,  snapping  the  fingers  is  one  of  the  salutes. 
Khythmical  muscular  motions  of  the  arms  and  hands,  thus 
expressing  pleasure,  real  or  pretended,  in  presence  of  an- 
other person,  are  not  the  only  motions  of  this  class :  the  legs 
come  into  play.  Children  often  ''  jump  for  joy;  "  and 
occasionally  adults  may  be  seen  to  do  the  lilce.  Saltatory 
movements  are  therefore  apt  to  grow  into  compliments.  In 
Loango  "  many  of  the  nobility  salute  the  king  by  leaping 
with,  great  strides  backward  and  forward  two  or  three  times 
and  swinging  their  arms."-  The  Fuegians  also,  as  the 
Ignited  States  explorers  tell  us,  show  friendship  ''  by  jump- 
ing up  and  down."  *  ^ 

Feeling,  discharging  itself,  contracts  the  muscles  of 
the  vocal  organs,  as  well  as  other  muscles.  Here  shouts,  in- 
dicating joy  in  general,  indicate  the  joy  produced  by  meet- 
ing one  who  is  beloved;  and  serve  to  give  the  appearance  of 
joy  before  one  whose  goodwill  is  sought.  Among  the  Fiji- 
ans,  respect  is  "  indicated  by  the  tama,  which  is  a  shout  of 
reverence  uttered  by  inferiors  when  approaching  a  chief 
or  chief  town."  In  Australia,  as  we  have  seen,  loud 
cooeys  are  made  on  coming  within  a  mile  of  an  encampment 

*  In  his  Early  History  of  Mankind  (2nd  ed.  pp.  51-2),  Mr.  Tylor  thus  com- 
ments on  such  observances : — "  The  lowest  class  of  salutations,  which  merely 
aim  at  giving  pleasant  bodily  sensations,  merge  into  the  civilities  which  we  see 
exchanged  among  the  lower  animals.  Such  are  patting,  stroking,  kissing, 
pressing  noses,  blowing,  sniffing,  and  so  forth.  .  .  .  Natural  expressions  of 
joy,  such  as  clapping  hands  hi  Africa,  and  jumping  up  and  down  in  Tierra  del 
Fuego,  are  made  to  do  duty  as  signs  of  friendship  or  greeting."  But,  as  in- 
dicated above,  to  give  "  pleasant  bodily  sensations  "  is  not  the  aim  of  "  the 
lowest  class  of  salutations."  Mr.  Tylor  has  missed  the  physio-psychological 
sources  of  the  acts  which  initiate  them. 


20  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

— an  act  wliicli,  while  primarily  indicating;  pleasure  at  the 
coming  reunion,  further  indicates  those  friendly  intentions 
which  a  silent  approach  would  render  doubtful. 

One  more  example  may  be  named.  Tears  result  from 
strong  feeling — mostly  from  painful  feeling,  but  also  from 
pleasurable  feeling  when  extreme.  Hence,  as  a  sign  of  joy, 
weeping  occasionally  passes  into  a  complimentary  observ- 
ance. The  beginning  of  such  an  observance  is  shown  us 
by  Hebrew  traditions  in  the  rece])tion  of  Tobias  by  Ivaguel, 
when  he  finds  him  to  be  his  cousin's  son: — "  Then  Ivaguel 
leaped  u]),  and  kissed  him,  and  we])t."  And  among  some 
races  there  grows  from  this  root  a  social  rite.  In  Xew  Zea- 
land a  meeting  ''  led  to  a  warm  tanyi  between  the  two  par- 
ties; but,  after  sitting  opposite  to  each  other  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  or  more,  crying  bitterly,  with  a  most  piteous 
moaning  and  lamentation,  the  tangi  was  transformed  into 
a  hungi^  and  the  two  old  ladies  commenced  pressing  noses, 
giving  occasional  satisfactory  gTunts."  And  then  we  find  it 
becoming  a  public  ceremony.  On  the  arrival  of  a  great 
chief,  "  the  women  stood  upon  a  hill,  and  loud  and  long  was 
the  tangi  to  welcome  his  approach;  occasionally,  however, 
they  would  leave  off,  to  have  a  chat  or  a  laugh,  and  then 
mechanically  resume  their  weeping."  Other  ^lalayo-Poly- 
nesians  have  a  like  custom ;  as  have  also  the  Tupis  of  South 
America. 

To  these  examples  of  the  ways  in  which  natural  mani- 
festations of  emotion  originate  ceremonies,  may  be  added 
a  few  examples  of  the  ways  in  wdiich  ceremonies  not  origi- 
nating directly  from  spontaneous  actions,  nevertheless  orig- 
inate by  natural  sequence  rather  than  by  intentional  sym- 
bolization.     Brief  indications  must.suffice. 

Blood-relationships  are  formed  in  Central  South  Africa 
between  those  who  imbibe  a  little  of  each  other's  blood.  A 
like  way  of  establishing  brotherhood  is  used  in  Madagascar, 
in  Borneo,  and  in  many  ])laces  throughout  the  world;  and 
it  was  userl  among  our  remote  ancestors.     This  is  assumed 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  21 

to  be  a  symbolic  observance.  On  studying  early  ideas, 
however,  and  finding  that  the  primitive  man  regards  the 
nature  of  anything  as  inhering  in  all  its  parts,  and  therefore 
thinks  he  gets  the  courage  of  a  brave  enemy  by  eating  his 
heart,  or  is  inspired  with  the  virtues  of  a  deceased  relative 
by  grinding  his  bones  and  drinking  them  in  water,  we  see 
that  by  absoibing  each  other's  blood,  men  are  supposed  to 
establish  actual  comnninity  of  nature. 

Similarly  with  the  ceremony  of  exchanging  names. 
"  To  bestow  his  name  upon  a  friend  is  the  highest  compli- 
ment that  one  man  can  offer  another,"  among  the  Sho- 
shones.  The  Australians  exchange  names  with  Europeans, 
in  proof  of  brotherly  feeling.  This,  which  is  a  widely-dif- 
fused practice,  arises  from  the  belief  that  the  name  is  -vitally 
connected  with  its  owner.  Possessing  a  man's  name  is 
equivalent  to  possessing  a  portion  of  his  being,  and  enables 
the  possessor  to  work  mischief  to  him;  and  hence  among 
numerous  peoples'  a  reason  for  concealing  names.  To  ^x- 
chajige  names,  therefore,  is  to  establish  some  participation 
in  one  another's  being;  and  at  the  same  time  to  trust  each 
with  power  over  the  other:  implying  great  mutual  confi- 
dence. 

It  is  a  usage  among  the  people  of  Yate,  "  when  they  wish 
to  make  peace,  to  kill  one  or  more  of  their  own  people,  and 
send  the  body  to  those  with  whom  they  have  been  fighting 
to  eat;  "  and  in  Samoa,  "  it  is  the  custom  on  the  submission 
of  one  party  to  another,  to  bow  down  before  their  conquerors 
each  with  a  piece  of  firewood  and  a  bundle  of  leaves,  such 
as  are  used  in  dressing  a  pig  for  the  oven  [bamboo-knives 
being  sometimes  added] ;  as  much  as  to  say — '  Kill  us  and 
cook  us,  if  you  please.'  "  These  facts  I  name  because  they 
show  a  ])oint  of  departure  from  which  might  arise  an  aj)])ar- 
ently-artificial  ceremony.  Let  the  traditions  of  cannibalism 
ainong  the  Samoans  disappear,  and  tliis  survi^ang  custom 
of  presenting  firewood,  leaves,  and  knives,  as  a  sign  of  sub- 
mission, would,  in  pursuance  of  the  ordinary  method  of  in- 
60 


22  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

terpivtation,  be  taken  for  nn  observance  arbiti-arilv  fixed 
upon. 

The  facts  that  peace  is  signilieJ  among  the  Dacotahs 
by  burying  the  tomahawk  and  among  the  BraziUans  by  a 
present  of  bows  and  arrows,  may  be  cited  as  illustrating 
what  is  in  a  sense  symbolization,  but  what  is  in  origin  a  modi- 
fication of  the  proceeding  symbolized;  for  cessation  of  figlit- 
ing  is  necessitated  by  putting  away  weapons,  or  by  giving 
weapons  to  an  antagonist.  If,  as  among  the  civilized,  a 
conquered  enemy  delivers  up  his  sword,  the  act  of  so  mak- 
ing himself  defenceless  is  an  act  of  personal  submission; 
but  eventually  it  comes  to  be,  on  the  part  of -a  general,  a 
sign  that  his  anny  surrenders.  Similarly,  when,  as  in  parts 
of  Africa,  ''  some  of  the  free  blacks  become  slaves  volunta- 
rily by  going  through  the  simple  but  significant  ceremony 
of  breaking  a  spear  in  the  presence  of  their  future  master," 
we  may  properly  say  that  the  relation  thus  artificially  estab- 
lished, is  as  near  an  approach  as  may  be  to  the  relation  es- 
tablished when  a  foe  whose  weapon  is  broken  is  made  a  slave 
by  his  captor:  the  symbolic  transaction  simulates  the  actual 
transaction. 

An  instructive  example  comes  next.  I  vviov  to  the 
bearing  of  green  boughs  as  a  sign  of  peace,  as  an  act  of  pro- 
pitiation, and  as  a  religious  ceremony.  As  indicating  peace 
the  custom  occurs  among  the  Araucanians,  Australians, 
1'asmanians,  New  Guinea  People,  New  Calexlonians,  Sand- 
wich Islanders,  Tahitians,  Samoans,  Xew  Zealanders;  and 
branches  were  used  by  the  ir(>brews  also  for  propitiatory 
approach  (II.  Mace.  xiv.  4).  In  some  cas(^s  we  find  them 
employed  to  signify  tiot  ]>eace  only  but  submission.  Speak- 
ing of  the  Peru.vians,  C\c/.;\  says — "  The  men  and  boys  came 
out  with  green  boughs  and  pahii-leaves  to  seek  for  mercy;  " 
and  among  the  Greeks,  too,  a  sui)])liant  carried  an  olive 
branch.  Wall-paintings  left  by  the  ancient  Egyptians 
show  us  palm-branches  carried  in  funeral  processions  to  pro- 
pitiate thf^  dead ;   and  at  the  prest^nt  time  ""  a  wreath  of  palm- 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  23 

brandies  stuck  in  the  grave  "  is  common  in  a  Moslem  ceme- 
tery in  Egypt.  A  statement  of  Wallis  respecting  the  Ta- 
hitians  shows  presentation  of  tliese  parts  of  trees  passing 
into  a  religions  observance:  a  pendant  left  flying  on  the 
beach  the  natives  regarded  with  fear,  bringing  green  boughs 
and  hogs,  which  they  laid  down  at  the  foot  of  the  staff. 
And  that  portion  of  a  tree  was  anciently  an  appliance 
of  worship  in  the  East,  is  shown  by  the  direction  in  Lev, 
xxiii.  40,  to  take  the  ^'  boughs  of  goodly  trees,  branches  of 
palm-trees,"  and  "  rejoice  before  the  Lord:  "  a  verification 
being  furnished  by  the  description  of  the  chosen  in  heaven, 
who  stand  before  the  throne  with  "  palms  in  their 
hands."  The  explanation,  when  we  get  the  clue, 

is  simple.  Travellers'  narratives  illustrate  the  fact  that 
laying  down  weapons  on  approaching  strangers  is  taken  to 
imply  pacific  intentions.  Obviously  the  reason  is  that 
opposite  intentions  are  thus  negatived.  Of  the  Kaffirs, 
for  instance,  Barrow  says — ''  '  a  messenger  of  peace  '  is 
known  by  this  people  from  his  lapng  down  his  hassagai  or 
spear  on  the  ground  at  the  distance  of  two  hundred  paces 
fi'oni  those  to  whom  he  is  sent,  and  by  advancing  from 
thence  with  extended  arms:  "  the  extension  of  the  arms 
evidently  having  the  purjiose  of  showing  that  he  has  no 
weapon  secreted.  But  how  is  the  absence  of  weapons  to  be 
shown  when  so  far  off  that  weapons,  if  carried,  are  invis- 
ible? Simply  by  carrying  other  things  which  are  visible; 
and  boughs  covered  witli  leaves  are  the  most  convenient 
and  generally  available  things  for  this  pur])ose.  Good 
evidence  is  at  hand.  The  Tasuianians  had  a  way  of  deceiv- 
ing those  who  inferred  from  the  green  boughs  in  their  hands 
that  they  were  weaponless.  They  practised  the  art  of  hold- 
ing their  spears  between  their  toes  as  they  walked:  ^' the 
black  .  .  .  approaching  him  in  pretended  amity,  trailed 
between  his  toes  the  fat^l  spear."  Arbitrary,  then,  as  this 
usage  seems  when  observed  in  its  later  forms  only,  we  find  it 
by  no  means  arbitrary  when  traced  back  to  its  origin. 


24  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Taken  as  proof  that  the  advaiu-iiio'  stranger  is  witliout  amis, 
the  green  bough  is  primarily  a  sign  that  he  is  not  an  enemy. 
It  is  thereafter  joined  with  other  marks  of  friendship.  It 
survives  when  propitiation  passes  into  submission.  And  so 
it  becomes  ineoi-porated  with  various  other  actions  which 
express  reverence  and  worship. 

One  more  instance  I  nuist  add,  because  it  clearly  shows 
how  there  grow  u})  interpretations  of  ceremonies  as  arti- 
iicially-devised  actions,  when  their  natural  origins  are  un- 
known. At  Arab  marriages.  Baker  says,  "  there  is  much 
feasting,  and  the  unfortunate  bridegroom  undergoes  the 
ordeal  of  whipping  by  the  relations  of  his  bride,  in  order  to 
test  his  courage.  ...  If  the  happy  husband  wishes  to  be 
considered  a  man  worth  having,  he  must  receive  the  chas- 
tisement with  an  expression  of  enjoyment;  in  which  case 
the  crowds  of  women  in  admiration  again  raise  their  thrill- 
ing cry."  Here,  instead  of  the  primitive  abduction  violent- 
ly resisted  by  the  woman  and  her  relatives — instead  of  the 
actual  capture  required  to  be  achieved,  as  auu:>ng  the  Kanit- 
schadales,  spite  of  the  blows  and  wounds  inflicted  by  "  all 
the  women  in  the  village  " — instead  of  those  modificatii)us 
of  the  '  form  of  capture  '  in  wdiich,  along  with  mock  pur- 
suit, there  goes  receipt  by  the  abductor  of  more  or  less  vio- 
lence from  the  pursuers;  we  have  a  modification  in  wliich 
pursuit  has  disappeared,  and  the  violence  is  i)assively  re- 
ceived. And  then  there  arises  the  belief  that  this  castiga- 
tion  of  the  bridegroom  is  a  deliberately-ch(jseu  Avay  to  ''  test 
his  courage." 

These  facts  are  not  given  as  adecpiatcly  ])i-()ving  that  in 
all  cases  ceremonies  are  mo<lifications  of  actions  which  had 
at  first  direct  adaptations  to  desired  ends,  and  that  their 
apparently  symbolic  charactei*s  result  from  their  sur\i\iil 
under  changed  circumstances.  Here  I  have  aimed  oidy  to 
indicate,  in  the  briefest  way,  the  reasons  for  rejecting  the 
current  hypothesis  that  ceremonies  originate  in  conscious 
syud)olizntioii;   and  for  entertaining  tlu^  belief  that  in  every 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  "  25 

case  they  originate  by  evolution.     This  belief  we  shall  here- 
after find  abundantly  justified. 

§  347.  A  chief  reason  why  little  attention  has  been  paid 
to  phenomena  of  this  class,  all-pervading  and  conspicuous 
though  they  are,  is  that  while  to  most  social  functions  there 
correspond  structures  too  large  to  be  overlooked,  functions 
which  make  up  ceremonial  control  have  correlative  struc- 
tures so  small  as  to  seem  of  no  significance.  That  the  gov- 
ernment of  observances  has  its  organization,  just  as  the  po- 
litical and  ecclesiastical  governments  have,  is  a  fact  habitu- 
ally passed  over,  because,  while  the  last  two  organizations 
have  developed  the  first  has  dwindled:  in  those  societies, 
at  least,  which  have  reached  the  stage  at  which  social 
phenomena  become  subjects  of  speculation.  Originally, 
however,  the  oflScials  who  direct  the  rites  expressing  politi- 
cal subordination  have  an  importance  second  only  to  that 
of  the  officials  who  direct  religious  rites;  and  the  two 
officialisms  are  homologous.  To  whichever  class  belong- 
ing, these  functionaries  conduct  propitiatory  acts:  the  visi- 
ble ruler  being  the  propitiated  person  in  the  one  case,  and 
the  ruler  no  longer  visible  being  the  propitiated  person  in 
the  other  case.  Both  are  performers  and  regulators  of  wor- 
ship— worship  of  the  living  king  and  worship  of  the  dead 
king.  In  our  advanced  stage  the  differentiation  of  the 
divine  from  the  human  has  become  so  great  that  this  propo- 
sition looks  scarcely  credible.  But  on  going  back  through 
stages  in  which  the  attributes  of  the  conceived  deity  are  less 
and  less  unlike  those  of  the  visible  man,  and  eventually 
reaching  the  early  stage  in  which  the  other-self  of  the  dead 
man,  considered  indiscriminately  as  ghost  and  god,  is  not 
to  be  distinguished,  when  he  appears,  from  the  living  man; 
we  cannot  fail  to  see  the  alliance  in  nature  between  the 
functions  of  those  who  minister  to  the  ruler  who  has  gone 
away  and  those  who  minister  to  the  ruler  who  has  taken  his 
place.     What  remaining  strangeness  there  may  seem  in 


26  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

this  assorlicii  of  liomologT  (lisjii)poiu"s  on  rciueuiborini;'  tliat 
in  sundry  ancient  societies  living  kin<;s  were,  literally  wor- 
sliip})e(l  as  dead  kings  were. 

Social  organisms  that  are  but  little  diti'ercntiated  (d(>arly 
show  us  several  aspects  of  this  kinshij).  I'lu^  savage  chief 
|)roclainis  his  own  great  deeds  and  the  achievements  of  his 
ancestors;  and  that  in  scmie  cases  this  habit  of  self-praise 
long  persists,  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  inscriptions  prove. 
Among  the  PatagoTiians  we  see  a  transition  beginning.  A 
ruler  haranguing  his  subjects,  "  always  extols  his  own  prow- 
ess and  personal  merit.  When  lie  is  elo<pTcnt,  he  is  greatly 
esteemed;  and  when  a  cacique  is  not  endowed  with  that 
accomplishment,  ho  generally  has  an  orator,  who  supplies 
his  place."  Permanent  advance  from  the  stage  at  which 
the  head  man  lauds  himself,  to  the  stag(>  at  whicdi  laudation 
of  him  is  done  by  deputy,  is  well  ty})itied  in  the  contrast 
between  the  recent  usage  in  Madagascar,  where  the  king  in 
public  assembly  \vas  in  the  habit  of  relating  "  his  origin, 
his  descent  from  the  line  of  fonner  sovereigns,  and  his  in- 
contestable right  to  the  kingdom,"  and  the  usage  that  ex- 
isted in  past  times  among  ourselves,  when  the  like  distinc- 
tions and  claims  of  the  king  were  publicly  asserted  for  him 
by  an  appointed  officer.  As  the  ruler,  extending  his  domin- 
ions and  growdng  in  power,  gathers  round  him  more  numer- 
ous agents,  the  utterance  of  propitiatory  praises,  at  first  by 
all  of  these,  becomes  eventually  distinctive  of  certain  among 
them:  there  arise  official  glorifiers.  "  Tn  Samoa,  a  chief 
in  travelling  is  attended  by  his  princi|)al  orator."  In 
Fiji  each  tribe  has  its  "  orator,  to  make  orations  on  occasions 
of  ceremony."  Tlie  attendants  of  the  chiefs  in  Ashantee 
eagerly  vociferate  the  "strong  names"  of  their  mastei-s; 
and  a  recent  writer  describes  certain  of  the  king's  attendants 
whose  duty  it  is  to  "  give  him  names  " — cry  out  his  titles  and 
high  finalities.  In  kindred  fashion  a  Yoruba  king,  wdien  he 
goes  abroad,  is  acaompanied  by  his  wives,  who  sing  his 
praises.     Now  when  we  meet  with  facts  of  this  kind — when 


CEREMONY   IN   GENERAL.  2'Z 

we  read  that  in  Madagascar  "  the  sovereign  has  a  large  band 
of  female  singers,  who  attend  in  the  courtyard,  and  who  ac- 
company their  monarch  whenever  he  takes  an  excursion, 
either  for  a  short  airing  or  distant  journey;  "  when  we  are 
told  that  in  China  "  his  imperial' majesty  was  preceded  by 
persons  loudly  proclaiming  his  virtues  and  his  power;  " 
when  we  learn  that  among  the  ancient  Chibchas  the  bogota 
was  received  with  "  songs  in  which  they  sung  his  deeds  and 
victories ;  "  we  cannot  deny  that  these  assertors  of  greatness 
and  singers  of  praises  do  for  the  living  king  exactly  that 
which  priests  and  priestesses  do  for  the  dead  king,  and  for 
the  god  who  evolves  from  the  dead  king.  In  societies 

that  have  their  ceremonial  governments  largely  developed, 
the  homology  is  further  shown.  As  such  societies  ordina- 
rily have  many  gods  of  various  powers,  severally  served 
by  their  official  glorifiers;  so  they  have  various  grades 
of  living  potentates,  severally  served  by  man  who  as- 
sert their  greatness  and  demand  respect.  In  Samoa,, 
"  a  herald  runs  a  few  paces  before,  calling  out,  as  he 
meets  any  one,  the  name  of  the  chief  who  is  coming." 
With  a  Madagascar  chief  in  his  palanquin,  "  one  or  two 
men  with  assagais,  or  spears,  in  their  hands,  ran  along  in 
front  shouting  out  the  name  of  the  chief."  In  advance  of 
an  ambassador  in  Japan  there  "  first  walked  four  men  with 
brooms  such  as  always  precede  the  retinue  of  a  great  lord,  in 
order  to  admonish  the  people  with  cries  of  '  Stay,  stay!  ' 
which  means,  '  Sit,  or  bow  you  down.'  "  *  In  China  a 
magistrate  making  a  progress  is  preceded  by  men  bearing 
"  red  boards  having  the  rank  of  the  officer  painted  on  them, 
running  and  shouting  to  the  street  passengers,  '  Retire,  re- 
tire! keep  silence,  and  clear  the  way!  '  Gong-strikers  fol- 
low, denoting  at  certain  intervals  by  so  many  strokes  their 
master's  grade  and  office."  And  in  ancient  Rome  men  of 
rank  had  their  a nteamhulones  whose  cry  was  "  Give  place 

*  Mr.  Ernest  Satow,  writin<:;  from  Japan  to  suggest  some  corrections,  says 
this  cry  should  be  "s/wto  ni,  shiia  ni,  Down!  Down!  [i.e.  on  your  knees)." 


28  CEREMOXIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

to  my  lord."  Another  parallelism  exists  between 

the  official  who  proclaims  the  king's  will  and  the  official  who 
proclaims  the  will  of  the  deity.  In  many  places  where 
regal  power  is  extreme,  the  monarch  is  either  invisible  or 
cannot  be  directly  couimunicated  with :  the  living  ruler  thus 
simulating  the  dead  and  di\ine  ruler,  and  re<iuiriug  kindred 
intermediators.  It  was  thus  ;niiuiig  the  ancient  Assyrians. 
Their  monarch  could  be  s})()ken  to  oidy  through  the  Vizier 
or  the  chief  eunuch.  It  was  thus  in  ancient  i\lexico.  Of 
Montezuma  11.  it  is  said  that  "  no  commoner  was  to  look 
him  in  the  face,  and  if  one  did,  he  died  for  it;  "  and  further, 
that  he  did  not  communicate  with  any  one,  "  except  by  an 
interpreter."  In  K^icaragua  the  caciques  "  canied  their 
exclusion  so  far  as  to  receive  messages  from  other  chiefs 
only  through  officers  delegated  for  that  purpose."  So  of 
Peru,  where  some  of  the  rulers  "  had  the  custom  not  to  be 
seen  by  their  subjects  but  on  rare  occasions,"  we  read  that 
at  the  first  interview  with  the  Spaniards,  "  Atahuallpa  gave 
no  answer,  nor  did  he  even  raise  his  eyes  to  look  at  the  cap- 
tain (Hernando  de  Soto).  But  a  chief  replied  to  what  the 
capt-ain  had  said."  With  the  Chibchas  *'  the  first  of  the 
court  officers  was  the  crier,  as  they  said  that  he  was  the 
medium  by  which  the  will  of  the  prince  was  explained." 
Throughout  Africa  at  the  present  time  it  is  the  same.  "  In 
conversation  with  the  King  of  Uganda,  the  words  must 
always  be  transmitted  through  one  or  more  of  his  officers." 
In  Dahomey,  "  the  sovereign's  words  are  spoken  to  the  men, 
who  informs  the  interpreter,  who  passes  it  on  to  the  visitor, 
and  the  answer  must  trickle  back  through  the  same  chan- 
nels." And,  concerning  Abyssinia,  where  even  the  chiefs 
sit  in  their  houses  in  darkness,  so  "  that  vulgar  eyes  may 
not  gaze  too  plainly  upon  "  them,  we  are  told  the  king  was 
not  seen  when  sitting  in  council,  but  "sat  in  a  darkened 
room,"  and  "  observed  through  a  wiixlow  what  was  going 
on  in  the  chamber  without;  "  and  also  that  he  had  "  an 
interpreter,  who  was  the  medium  of  comumnication  between 


CEREMONY  IN  GENERAL.  20 

tlie  king  and  his  people  on  state  occasions;  liis  name  meant 
the  voice  or  word  of  the  king."  I  may  add  that  this 
parallelism  between  the  secular  and  sacred  agents  of 
communication  is  in  some  cases  recognized  by  peoples  whose 
institutions  display  it.  The  ISTew  Zealand  priests  are  re- 
garded as  the  "  ambassadors  of  the  gods;"  and  the  title 
"  messengers  of  the  gods  "  is  borne  by  the  officers  of  the 
temple  of  Tensio  dai  Sin,  the  chief  deity  of  the  Japa- 
nese. 

There  is  a  further  evidence  of  this  homology.  Where, 
along  with  social  development  considerably  advanced, 
ancestor-worship  has  remained  dominant,  and  where  gods 
and  men  are  consequently  l)ut  little  differentiated,  the  two 
organizations  are  but  little  differentiated.  In  ancient 
Egypt  "  it  was  the  priesthood,  directing  the  ceremonial  of 
court-life,  who  exacted  .  .  .  that  the  king  (belonging  to 
their  order)  did  not  receive  any  one  who  failed  to  follow 
their  laws  of  purity."  •  China  furnishes  a  good  instance. 
"  The  Chinese  emperors  are  in  the  habit  of  deifying  .  .  . 
civil  or  military  officers,  whose  life  has  been  characterized 
by  some  memorable  act,  and  the  worship  rendered  to  these 
constitute  the  official  religion  of  the  mandaj'ins."  Further, 
tlie  em2)eror  "  confers  various  titles  on  officers  who  have 
left  the  world,  and  shown  themselves  worthy  of  the  iiigli 
trust  reposed  in  them,  creating  them  governoi*s,  presidents, 
overseers,  &c.,  in  Hades."  And  then  we  learn  that  one 
department  of  the  Li  pu,  or  Board  of  Rites,  regulates  the 
etiquette  to  be  observed  at  court,  the  dresses,  carriages  and 
riding  accontrements,  the  followers  and  insignia;  while 
another  department  superintends  the  rites  to  be  observed  in 
worshipping  deities  and  spirits  of  departed  monarchs,  sages, 
and  worthies,  &c. :  statements  showing  that  the  same  board 
regulates  both  r(>ligious  ceremonial  and  civil  ceremonial. 
To  which  summarized  account  I  may  add  this  quotation: — 
"  in  Court,  the  master  of  ceremonies  stands  in  a  conspicuous 
place,  and  -with  a  loud  voice  conmiands  the  courtiers  to 


30  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

rise  iiiul  kneel,  stiuid  or  niarcli;  "  tliat  is,  lie  dii-ccts  tlio 
worshijjpers  of  the  nionaivh  as  a  eliief  })riest  directs  the  wor- 
sliipi)ers  of  the  god.  E(i[uallj  marked  were,  until  lately^ 
the  kindred  relations  in  Jai)an.  With  the  sacredness  of 
the  Mikado,  and  with  his  god-like  inaeeessihilitj,  travellers 
have  familiarized  us;  but  the  implied  confusion  between 
the  divine  and  the  human  went  to  a  much  greater  extent. 

"Tlie  Japanese  generally  are  imbued  with  the  idea  that  their  land 
is  a  real  '  shin  koku,  a  karai  no  kooni ' — that  is,  the  land  of  spiritual 
beings  or  kingdom  of  spirits.  Tliey  are  led  to  think  that  the  emperor 
rules  over  all,  and  that,  among  other  subordinate  powers,  he  rul(!s 
over  the  spirits  of  the  country.  He  rules  over  men,  and  is  to  them 
the  fountain  of  honour;  and  this  is  not  confined  to  honours  in  this 
world,  but  is  extended  to  the  other,  where  they  are  advanced  from 
rank  to  rank  by  the  orders  of  the  emperor." 

And -then  we  read  that  under  the  Japanese  cabinet,  one  of 
the  eight  administrative  boards,  the  Ji  Bu  shio,  "  deals  wdth 
the  forms  of  society,  manners,  etiquette,  worship,  cere- 
monies for  the  living  and  the  dead.",* 

Western  peoples,  among  whom  during  the  Christian  era 
differentiation  of  the  di\dne  from  the  human  has  become 
very  decided,  exhibit  in  a  less  marked  manner  the  homology 
between  the  ceremonial  organization  and  the  ec(desiastical 
organization.  Still  it  is,  or  rather  was  once,  clearly  trace- 
able. In  feudal  days,  beyond  the  lord  high  chamberlains, 
grand  masters  of  ceremonies,  ushers,  and  so  forth,  belong- 
ing to  royal  courts,  and  the  kindred  officers  found  in  the 
households  of  subonlinate  rulers  and  nobles  (officers  who 
conducted  pro])itiatorv  observances),  there  were  the  heralds. 
These  formed  a  (dass  of  ceremonial  functioiiaric^s,  in  vanous 
ways  resend)ling  a  priesthood,  dnst  noting  as  significant 
the  renuirk  of  Scott  that  *'  so  intimate  was  the  union  be- 

*  Concerninc;  Dickson's  statement,  here  quoted,  Mr.  Krnest  Patow  write!" 
that  this  board  (long  since  extinct)  was  double.  The  differentiation  in  tho 
functions  of  its  divisions  was  but  partial  liowcver  ;  for  while  one  rc^Tdatcd  the 
propitiation  of  the  cods,  the  other,  beside  n-frulatiiiR  secular  propitiations,  per- 
formed projiitiations  of  tlie  dead  Mikados,  who  were  gods. 


CEREMONY   IN  GENERAL.  31 

twixt  chivalry  and  religion  esteemed  to  be,  tliat  the  sev- 
eral gradations  of  the  former  were  seriously  considered 
as  parallel  to  those  of  the  Church,"  I  go  on  to  point  out  that 
these  officers  pertaining  to  the  institution  of  chivalry, 
formed  a  body  which,  where  it  was  highly  organized,  as  in 
Trance,  had  five  ranks — che%^aucheu7',j)oursuivant  (Tarraes, 
heraut  cfarmes,  roi  (Tarmes,  and  roi  cT amies  de  France. 
Into  these  ranks  successively,  its  members  were  initiated  by 
a  species  of  baptism — wine  being  substituted  for  water. 
I'hey  held  periodic  chaptei*s  in  the  church  of  St.  Antoine. 
When  bearing  mandates  and  messages,  they  were  similarly 
dressed  with  their  masters,  royal  or  noble,  and  were  simi- 
larly honoured  by  those  to  whom  they  were  sent:  ha\ang 
thus  a  deputed  dignity  akin  to  the  deputed  sacredness  of 
])riests.  By  the  chief  king-at-arms  and  five  others,  local 
visitations  were  made  for  discipline,  as  ecclesiastical  visita- 
tions were  made.  Heralds  verified  the  titles  of  those  who 
aspired  to  the  distinctions  of  chivalry,  as  priests  decided  on 
the  fitness  of  applicants  for  the  sanctions  of  the  Church; 
and  when  going  their  circuits,  they  were  to  correct  "  things 
ill  and  dishonest,"  and  to  advise  princes — duties  allied  to 
those  of  priests.  Besides  announcing  the  wills  of  earthly 
rulers  as  priests  announced  the  wills  of  heavenly  rulere, 
they  were  glorifiers  of  the  first  as  priests  were  of  the 
last:  part  of  their  duty  to  those  they  seri^ed  being  "  to  pub- 
lish their  praises  in  foreign  lands."  At  the  burials  of 
kings  and  princes,  where  observances  for  honouring  the  liv- 
ing and  observances  for  honouring  the  dead,  came  in  con- 
tact, the  kinship  of  a  herald's  f nnction  to  the  function  of 
a  priest  was  again  shown;  for  besides  putting  in  the  tomb 
the  insignia  of  rank  of  the  deceased  potentate,  and  in 
that  manner  sacrificing  to  him,  the  herald  had  to  write, 
or  get  written,  a  eulogy — had  to  initiate  that  worship  of 
the  dead  out  of  which  grow  higher  forms  of  worship.  Simi- 
lar, if  less  elaborate,  was  the  system  in  England.  Heralds 
wore  crowns,    had    royal    dresses,    aiid    used    the  plural 


32  CEREiMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

"  wo.''  Anciently  there  were  two  heraldic  i)roviuces, 
with  their  respective  chief  heralds,  like  two  dioceses.  Fur- 
ther develoi)nient  ])rodnced  a  garter  king'-at-arnis,  with  pro- 
vincial kings-at-arnis  presiding'  over  minor  heraldic  otHcers; 
and,  in  1483,  all  were  incorporated  iiit(»  the  College  of 
Jlerakls.  As  in  France,  visitations  were  made  for  the  pnr- 
])ose  of  verifving  existing  titles  and  Invnonrs,  and  authoriz- 
ing others;  and  funei'al  I'ites  were  so  fai"  under  heraldic 
control  that,  among  the  nol)ility,  no  one  c(tul(l  he  huric^l 
without  the  assent  of  the  herald. 

Wliy  these  structures  whirh  dis(diarged  cei'enionial 
functions  once  consjiicuous  and  imi)ortant,  dwindled,  while 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  structun^s  develo])ed,  it  is  easy  to  see. 
Propitiation  of  the  living  has  been,  from  tlie  6utset,  neces- 
sarily more  localized  than  jjrojMtiation  of  the  dead.  The 
existing  ruler  can  l)e  worshipped  only  in  his  ])resence,  or,  at 
any  rate,  within  his  dwelling  or  in  its  neighhonrhood. 
Though  in  Peru  adorati(»n  was  paid  to  images  of  the  living 
Yncas;  and  though  in  ^Madagascar  King  Padama,  when 
absent,  had  his  ])raises  sung  in  the  words — "  (Jod  is  gone  to 
tlie  west,  Jxadama  is  a  mighty  bull;  "  yet,  generally,  the 
obeisances  and  laudations  ex})rossing  sul)ordination  to  the 
great  man  while  alive,  are  not  made  wlicn  they  cannot  be 
witnessed  by  hiui  or  his  innnecliate  dei)endants.  Put 
when  the  great  man  dies  and  there  begins  the  fear  of  liis 
ghost,  conceived  as  able  t(t  rea|)peai'  anywher(>,  prdpitiations 
arc  less  narrowly  localized;  and  in  ]iro])oi-tion  as,  with 
formation  of  larger  societies,  thei'O  comes  (levelo]imeut  of 
deities  greater  in  su|)])osed  iiowei-  and  range,  dread  of  them 
and  reverence  for  them  are  felt  simultaneously  nwv  wide 
areas.  Hence  the  official  propitiators,  multijdying  and 
spreading,  severally  carry  on  their  worships  in  many  places 
at  the  same  time — there  arise  large  IxkHcs  of  ecclesiastical 
officials.  Not  for  these  reasons  alone,  liowever, 

does  the  ceremonial  organization  fail  to  grow  as  the  other  or- 
ganizations do.     Development  of  the  latter,  causes  decay  of 


CEREMONY  JN  GENERAL.  33 

the  former.  During  early  stages  of  social  integration,  local 
rulers  have  their  local  courts  with  ai:)propriate  officei-s  of 
ceremony;  but  the  process  of  consolidation  and  increasing- 
subordination  to  a  central  government,  results  in  decreasing 
dignity  of  the  local  rulers,  and  disappearance  of  the  official 
upholders  of  their  dignity.  Among  ourselves  in  past 
times,  "dukes,  marquises,  and  earls  were  allowed  a  herald 
and  a  pursuivant;  viscounts,  and  barons,  and  others  not 
ennobled,  even  knights  bannerets,  might  retain  one  of  the 
latter;  "  but  as  the  regal  power  grew,  "  the  practice 
gradually  ceased:  there  were  none  so  late  as  Elizabeth's 
reign."  Yet  further,   the  structure  carrying  on 

ceremonial  control  slowly  falls  away,  because  its  functions 
are  gradually  encroached  upon.  Political  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal regulations,  though  at  first  insisting  mainly  on  conduct 
expressing  obedience  to  rulers,  human  and  divine,  develop 
more  and  more  in  the  directions  of  equitable  restraints  on 
conduct  between  individuals,  and  ethical  precepts  for  the 
guidance  of  such  conduct;  and  in  doing  this  they  trench 
more  and  more  on  the  sphere  of  the  ceremonial  organiza- 
tion. In  France,  besides  having  the  semi-priestly  functions 
we  have  noted,  the  heralds  were  "  judges  of  the  cnmes 
committed  by  the  nobility;  "  and  they  were  empowered  to 
degrade  a  transgressing  noble,  confiscate  his  goods,  raze  his 
dwellings,  lay  waste  liis  lands,  and  strip  him  of  his  arms. 
In  England,  too,  certain  civil  duties  were  discharged  by 
these  officers  of  ceremony.  Till  1688,  the  provincial 
kings-at-amis  had  "  visited  their  divisions,  receiving  com- 
missions for  that  purpose  from  the  Sovereign,  by  Avhich 
means  the  funeral  certificates,  the  descents,  and  alliances  of 
the  nobility  and  gentry,  had  been  properly  registered  in  tliis 
college  [of  Heralds].  These  became  records  in  all  the 
courts  at  law."  Evidently  the  assumption  of  functions  of 
these  kinds  by  ecclesiastical  and  political  agents,  has  joined 
in  reducing  the  ceremonial  stnicturcs  to  those  nulimonts 
which  now  remain  in  the  almost-forgotten  Herald's  Col- 


34  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

lege  and  in  the  Court  officials  who  reguhitc  intercourse  with 
the  Sovereign. 

§  348.  Before  passing  to  a  detailed  account  of  cere- 
monial government  under  its  various  aspects,  it  will  be  well 
to  sum  up  the  results  of  this  })reliuiinary  survey.  They  are 
these. 

That  control  of  conduct  which  we  distingiiish  as  cere- 
mony, precedes  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  controls.  It 
begins  with  sub-human  types  of  creatures;  it  occurs  among 
otherwise  ungoverned  savages;  it  often  becomes  highly 
developed  where  the  other  kinds  of  rule  are  little  devel- 
oped; it  is  ever  being  spontaneously  generated  afresh  be- 
tween indi^dduals  in  all  societies;  and  it  envelops  the  more 
definite  restraints  which  State  and  Church  exercise.  The 
primitiveness  of  ceremonial  regulation  is  further  shown 
by  the  fact  that  at  first,  political  and  religious  regulations 
are  little  more  than  systems  of  ceremony,  directed  towards 
particular  persons  living  aiid  dead:  the  code  of  law  joined 
with  the  one,  and  the  moral  code  joined  with  the  other, 
coming  later.  There  is  again  the  evidence  derived  from  the 
possession  of  certain  elements  in  common  by  the  three 
controls,  social,  ]">olitical,  and  religious;  for  the  fonns  ob- 
servable in  social  intercourse  occur  also  in  political  and  re- 
ligious intercourse  as  fonns  of  homage  and  fonns  of  wor- 
ship. More  significant  still  is  the  circumstance  that  cere- 
monies may  mostly  be  traced  back  to  certain  spontaneous 
acts  which  manifestly  precede  legislation,  civil  and  e<'clesias- 
tical.  Instead  of  arising  by  dictation  or  l)y  agrcxmient, 
which  would  imply  the  pre-established  organization  re- 
quired for  making  and  enforcing  rules,  they  arise  by  modi- 
fications of  acts  perfonned  for  personal  ends;  and  so  prove 
themselves  to  grow  out  of  individual  conduct  before  so<'ial 
arrangements  exist  to  control  it.  Lastly  we  note  that  when 
there  arises  a  political  head,  who,  demanding  subordination, 
i'^  !it  fii-st  liis  own  mnster  of  the  ceremonic^s,  ;nid  who  present- 


CEREMONY   IN  GENERAL.  35 

ly  collects  round  him  attendants  whose  propitiatory  acts  are 
made  definite  and  tixed  by  rejietition,  there  arise  ceremonial 
officials.  Though,  along  with  the  growth  of  organizations 
which  enforce  civil  laws  and  enunciate  moral  precepts,  there 
has  been  such  a  decay  of  the  ceremonial  organization  as  to 
render  it  among  ourselves  inconspicuous ;  yet  in  early  stages 
the  body  of  officials  who  conduct  propitiation  of  living 
rulers,  supreme  and  subordinate,  homologous  with  the  body 
of  officials  who  conduct  propitiation  of  dead  apotheosized 
rulers,  major  and  minor,  is  a  considerable  element  of  the  so- 
cial structure ;  and  it  dwindles  only  as  fast  as  the  structures, 
political  and  ecclesiastical,  which  exercise  controls  more 
definite  and  detailed,  usui-jj  its  functions. 

Canying  with  us  these  general  conceptions,  let  us  now 
pass  to  the  several  components  of  ceremonial  rule.  We 
will  deal  with  them  under  the  heads — Trophies,  Mutilations, 
Presents,  Visits,  Obeisances,  Forms  of  Address,  Titles, 
Badges  and  Costumes,  Further  Class  Distinctions,  Fashion, 
Past  and  Future  of  Ceremony. 


CHAPTER    II. 

TROPHIES. 

§  349.  Efficiency  of  every  kind  is  a  source  of  self- 
satisfaction;  and  proofs  of  it  are  prized  as  bringing 
applause.  The  sportsman,  narrating  his  feats  when 
opportunity  serves,  keeps  such  spoils  of  the  chase  as  he  con- 
veniently can.  Is  he  a  fisherman^  Then,  occasionally, 
the  notches  cut  on  the  butt  of  his  rod,  show  the  number 
and  lengths  of  his  salrnon;  or,  in  a  glass  case,  there  is  pre- 
served the  great  Thames-trout  he  once  caught.  Has  he 
stalked  deer?  Then  in  .his  hall,  or  dining-room,  are  fixed 
up  their  heads;  which  he  greatly  esteems  when  the  attaclied 
horns  have  '"  many  points."  Still  more,  if  a  successful  hun- 
ter of  tigers,  does  he  value  the  skins  demonstrating  his 
prowess. 

Trophies  of  such  kinds,  even  auiong  ourselves,  give  to 
their  owner  some  influence  over  those  around  him.  A 
traveller  who  has  brought  from  Afiica  a  pair  of  elephant's 
tusks,  or  the  formidable  horn  of  a  rhinoceros,  impresses 
those  who  come  in  contact  with  him  as  a  man  of  courage 
and  resource,  and,  therefore,  as  one  not  to  ho  ti-illcd  with. 
A  vague  kind  of  governing  power  accrues  to  him. 

Xatu rally,  by  primitive  men,  whose  lives  are  predatory 
and  whose  respective  values  largely  dejX'iKl  on  tlicir 
powers  as  huntei's,  animal-trophies  arc  still  more  ])ri/x'd; 
and  tend,  in  greater  degrees,  to  bnng  iKnniur  and  influence. 
Hence  the  fact  tliat  rank  in  Vate  is  indicated  by  the  nnm- 

30 


TROPHIES.  37 

ber  of  bones  of  all  kinds  suspended  in  the  house.  Of 
the  Shoshone  warrior  we  are  told  that,  "  killing  a  gnzzly 
bear  also  entitles  him  to  this  honour,  for  it  is  considered 
a  great  feat  to  slay  one  of  these  formidable  animals, 
and  only  he  who  has  performed  it  is  allowed  to  wear  their 
highest  insignia  of  glory,  the  feet  or  claws  of  the  vic- 
tim." "  In  tlie  house  of  a  powerful  chief  [of  the  Mishmis], 
several  hundreds  of  skulls  [of  beasts],  are  hung  up  along 
the  walls  of  the  passage,  and  his  wealth  is  always  calcu- 
lated according  to  the  number  of  these  trophies,  which 
also  form  a  kind  of  currency  among  the  tribes."  "With 
the  Santals  "  it  is  customary  to  hand  these  trophies  [skulls 
of  beasts,  <tc.]  down  from  father  to  son."  And  when, 
with  such  facts  to  give  us  the  clue,  we  read  that  the  habi- 
tation of  the  king  of  the  Koossas  *'  is  no  otherwise 
distinguished  than  by  the  tail  of  a  lion  or  a  panther  hang- 
ing from  the  top  of  the  roof,"  we  can  scarcely  doubt 
that  this  symbol  of  royalty  was  originally  a  trophy  dis- 
played by  a  chief  whose  prowess  had  gained  him  suprem- 
acy. 

But  as,  among  the  uncivilized  and  semi-civilized,  human 
enemies  are  more  to  be  feared  than  beast-enemies,  and 
conquests  over  men  are  therefore  occasions  of  greater 
triumphs  than  conquests  over  animals,  it  results  that 
l)roofs  of  such  conquests  are  usually  still  more  valued. 
A  brave  who  returns  from  battle  does  not  get  honour 
if  his  boasts  are  unsupported  by  evidence;  but  if  he 
])roves  that  he  has  killed  his  man  by  bringing  back  sonu> 
])art  of  him — especially  a  part  which  the  corpse  could 
not  yield  in  duplicate — he  raises  his  character  in  the 
tribe  and  increases  his  power.  Preservation  of  such  tro- 
phies with  a  view  to  display,  and  consequent  strength- 
ening of  personal  influence,  therefore  becomes  an  estab- 
lished custom.  In  Ashantee  "  the  smaller  joints,  bones, 
and  teeth  of  the  slain  are  worn  by  the  victors  about  their 
persons."  Among  the  Ceris  and  Opatas  of  ISTortli  Mexico, 
61 


38  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

"  many  cook  and  cat  the  tiesli  ol'  tlu'ir  captives,  reserving 
the  bones  as  trophies."  And  another  Mexican  race,  "  the 
Chicliiniecs,  carried  with  them  a  bone  on  which,  when  they 
killed  an  enemy,  they  marked  a  notch,  as  a  record  of  the 
nnmber  each  had  slain." 

The  meaning  of  trophy-taking  and  its  social  effects,  be- 
ing recognized,  let  lis  consider  in  groups  the  various 
forms  of  it. 

§  350.  Of  parts  cut  from  the  bodies  of  the  slain,  heads 
are  among  the  commonest;  probably  as  being  the  most 
unmistakable  proofs  of  victory. 

We  need  not  go  far  afield  for  examples  of  the  practice 
and  its  motives.  The  most-  familiar  of  books  contains 
them.  In  Judges  vii.  25,  we  read — "  And  they  took  two 
princes  of  the  IMidianites,  Oreb  and  Zeeb:  and  they  slew 
Oreb  upon  the  rock  Oreb,  and  Zeeb  they  slew  at  the 
"wane-press  of  Zeob,  and  pursued  ^lidian,  and  brought 
the  heads  of  Oreb  and  Zeeb  to  Gideon  on  the  other  side 
Jordan."  Similarly,  the  decapitation  of  Goliath  by 
David  was  followed  by  carrying  his  head  to  Jerusalem. 
The  practice  existed  in  Egypt  too.  At  Aboii  Simbel, 
Rameses  II.,  is  represented  as  holding  a  bunch  of  a  dozen 
heads.  And  if,  by  races  so  supci-ior,  heads  were  taken 
home  as  trophies,  we  shall  not  wonder  at  finding  the  cus- 
tom of  thus  taking  them  among  inferior  races  all  over 
the  globe.  By  the  Chichimecs  in  North  America  "  the 
heads  of  the  slain  were  placed  on  poles  and  para(U'd 
through  their  villages  in  token  of  victory,  the  inhabitants 
iiicunwliilc  (hiucing  i-ound  them."  In  South  America,  by 
tile  Abi])ones,  heads  are  brought  back  from  battle  "  tied 
to  their  saddles;  "  and  the  .Mnndrucus  "  ornament  their 
rude  and  miserable  cabanas  witli  these  lioi-i-ible  trophies." 
Of  ^Falayo-Polynesians  having  a  like  habit,  may  be  named 
the  New  Zealanders.  Skulls  of  enemies  are  preserved  as 
trophies  by  the  natives  on  the  Congo;   and  "  the  skull  and 


TROPHIES.  39 

tliigli  bones  of  the  last  monarch  of  Dinkira  are  still  tro- 
phies of  the  court  of  xVshantee."  Among  the  Hill-tribes, 
of  India,  the  Kukis  have  this  practice.  In  Pei-sia,  under 
the  stimulus  of  money  payments,  "  prisoners  [of  war] 
have  been  put  to  death  in  cold  blood,  in  order  that  the  heads, 
which  are  immediately  dispatched  to  the  king,  .  .  might 
make  a  more  considerable  show\"  And  that  among  other 
Asiatic  races  head-taking  persists  spite  of  semi-civilization, 
we  are  reminded  by  the  recent  doings  of  the  Turks;  who 
have,  in  some  cases,  exhumed  the  bodies  of  slain  foes  and 
decapitated  them. 

The  last  instance  draws  attention  to  the  fact  that  this 
barbarous  custom  has  been,  and  is,  carried  to  the  greatest 
extremes  along  with  militancy  the  most  excessive.  Among 
ancient  examples  there  are  the  doings  of  Timour,  with  his 
exaction  of  ninety  thousand  heads  from  Bagdad.  Of 
modern  examples  the  most  notable  comes  from  Dahomey. 
"  The  sleeping  apartment  of  a  Dahoman  king  was  paved 
with  skulls  of  neighbouring  princes  and  chiefs,  placed  there 
that  the  king  might  tread  upon  them."  And  the  king's 
statement  "  that  his  house  wanted  thatch,"  was  "  used  in 
giving  orders  to  his  generals  to  make  war,  and  alludes  to 
the  custom  of  placing  the  heads  of  the  enemies  killed  in 
battle,  or  those  of  the  prisoners  of  distinction,  on  the  roofs 
of  the  guard-houses  at  the  gates  of  his  palaces." 

But  now,  ending  instances,  let  us  observe  how  this  tak- 
ing of  heads  as  trophies  initiates  a  means  of  strengthening 
political  power;  how  it  becomes  a  factor  in  sacrificial  cere- 
monies; and  how  it  enters  into  social  intercourse  as  a  con- 
trolling influence. 

That  the  pyramids  and  towers  of  heads  built  by  Timour 
at  Bagdad  and  Alepi)o,  must  have  conduced  to  liLs 
supremacy  by  striking  terror  into  the  subjugated,  as 
well  as  by  exciting  dread  of  vengeance  for  insubordina- 
tion among  his  followers,  cannot  be  doubted;  and  that 
living  in   a   dwelling   ]mved   and   decorated   with   skulls, 


40  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

iinplics,  in  ii  Dalioiuau  king,  a  cliarae'tor  gcncniting 
fear  among  enemies  and  obedience  among  subjects,  is 
obvious.  In  Northern  Celebes,  where,  before  1S22, 
*'  human  skulls  were  the  great  ornaments  of  the  chiefs' 
houses,"  these  proofs  of  victory  in  battle,  used  as  symbols 
of  authority,  could  not  fail  to  exercise  a  governmental 
effect.  And  that  they  do  this  we  have  definite  proof  in  the 
fact  that  among  the  Mundrucus,  the  possession  of  ten 
smoke-dried  heads  of  enemies  renders  a  man  eligible  to  the 
rank  of  chief. 

That  heads  are  offered  in  propitiation  of  the  dead,  and 
that  the  ceremony  of  offering  them  is  thus  made  part  of  a 
(i[uasi-worsliip,  there  are  clear  proofs.  One  is  supplied  by 
the  Celebes  people  just  named.  "  When  a  chief  died  his 
tomb  must  be  adorned  with  two  fresh  human  heads,  and  if 
those  of  enemies  could  not  be  obtained,  slaves  were  killed 
for  the  occasion."  Among  the  Dyaks,  who,  though  in 
many  respects  advanced,  have  retained  this  barbarous  prac- 
tice sanctified  by  tradition,  it  is  the  same:  "  the  aged  war- 
rior could  not  rest  in  his  grave  till  his  relatives  had  taken  a 
head  in  his  name."  By  the  Kukis  of  Xorthern  India 
sacrificial  head-taking  is  carried  still  further.  ]\lakiug  raids 
into  the  plains  to  ])rocure  heads,  they  "  have  been  known  in 
one  night  t5  carry  off  fifty.  These  are  used  in  certain 
ceremonies  performed  at  the  funerals  of  the  cliiefs,  and  it 
is  always  after  the  death  of  one  of  their  Kajahs  that  these 
incursions  occur." 

That  the  possession  of  these  grisly  tokens  of  success 
gives  an  influence  in  social  intercourse,  ])roof  is  yielded  by 
the  following  passage  from  St.  John: — "  I  load-hunting  is 
not  so  much  a  religious  ceremony  among  tlie  Pakatans, 
Borneo,  as  merely  to  show  their  bravery  and  manliness. 
When  they  quaiTel,  it  is  a  constant  phrase — '  How  many 
heads  did  your  father  or  grandfather  get? '  If  less  than 
his  own  number — '  Well  then,  you  have  no  occasion  to 
be  i)r(>uil.'  " 


TROPHIES.  41 

§  351.  The  head  of  an  enemy  is  of  inconvenient  bulk; 
and  when  the  journey  home  is  long  there  arises  the  question 
— cannot  proof  that  an.  enemy  has  been  killed  be  given  by 
carrying  back  a  part  only^  In  some  places  the  savage  in- 
fers that  it  can,  and  acts  on  the  inference. 

•  This  modification  and  its  meaning  are  well  shown  in 
Ashantee,  where  "  the  general  in  command  sends  to  the  capi- 
tal the  jaw-bones  of  the  slain  enemies."  When  fii-st  found, 
the  Tahitians,  too,  displayed  in  triumph  their  dead  foes' 
jaw-bones;  and  Cook  saw  fifteen  of  them  fastened  up  at  the 
end  of  a  house.  Similarly  of  Vate,  where  "  the  greater  the 
chief,  the  greater  the  display  of  bones,"  we  read  that  if  a 
slain  enemy  was  "  one  who  spoke  ill  of  the  chief,  his  jaws  are 
hung  up  in  the  chief's  house  as  a  trophy:  "  a  tacit  threat  to 
others  who  vilified  him.  A  recent  account  of  another  Papuan 
race  inhabiting  Boigu,  on  the  coast  of  jSTew  Guinea,  further 
illustrates  the  practice,  and  also  its  social  effect.  Mr.  Stone 
writes : — "  By  nature  these  people  are  bloody  and  warlike 
among  themselves,  frequently  making  raids  to  the  '  Big- 
Land,'  and  returning  in  triumph  with  the  heads  and  jaw- 
bones of  their  slaughtered  victims,  the  latter  becoming  the 
property  of  the  murderer,  and  the  former  of  him  who  de- 
capitates the  body.  The  jawbone  is  consequently  held  as 
the  most  valued  trophy,  and  the  more  a  man  possesses,  the 
greater  he  becomes  in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow-men."  Add 
that  in  South  America  some  tribes  of  Tupis,  in  honouring 
a  victorious  warrior,  "  liung  the  mouth  [of  his  victim]  upon 
his  arm  like  a  bracelet." 

With  the  display  of  jaws  as  trophies,  there  may  be  named 
a  kindred  use  of  teeth.  America  furnishes  instances.  The 
(^aribs  "  strung  together  the  teeth  of  such  of  their  enemies 
as  they  had  slain  in  battle,  and  wore  them  on  their  legs  and 
arms."  The  Tupis,  after  devouring  a  captive,  preserved 
"  the  teeth  stnmg  in  necklaces."  The  ]\Ioxos  women  wore 
"  a  necklace  made  of  tlie  teeth  of  enemies  killed  b}^  their 
husbands  in  battle."     The  Central  Americans  made  an  im- 


42  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

ace,  "■  and  in  its  nioutli  wore  inserted  teeth  taken  from  the 
Spaniards  whom  they  had  killed." 

Other  parts  of  the  head,  easily  detached  and  carried,  also 
serve.  Where  many  enemies  are  slain,  the  collected  ears 
yield  in  small  bulk  a  means  of  counting;  and  probably 
Zengis  Khan  had  this  end  in  view  when,  in  Poland,  .he 
''  filled  nine  sacks  with  the  right  ears  of  the  slain."  Koses, 
again,  are  in  some  cases  chosen  as  easily  enumerated  tro- 
phies. Anciently,  by  Constantino  Y.,  "  a  plate  of  noses 
was  accepted  as  a  grateful  offering;  "  and,  at  the  present 
time,  the  noses  they  have  taken  are  carried  by  soldiei*s  to 
their  leaders  in  Montenegro.  That  the  slain  Turks  thus 
deprived  of  their  noses,  even  to  the  extent  of  five  hundred 
on  one  battle-field,  were  so  treated  in  retaliation  for  the 
decapitations  the  Turks  had  been  guilty  of,  is  true;  but 
this  excuse  does  not  alter  the  fact  "  that  the  Montenegrin 
chiefs  could  not  be  persuaded  to  give  up  the  practice  of  pay- 
ing their  clansmen  for  the  number  of  noses  produced." 

§  352.  The  ancient  Mexicans,  having  for  gods  their  dei- 
fied cannibal  ancestors,  in  whose  worship  the  most  horrible 
rites  were  daily  perfonned,  in  some  cases  took  as  trophies 
the  entire  skins  of  the  van(]uished.  "  The  first  prisoner 
made  in  a  war  was  flayed  alive.  The  soldier  who  had  cap- 
tured hiiu  dressed  himself  in  his  bleeding  skin,  and  thus, 
for  some  days,  served  the  god  of  battles.  .  .  .  He  who  -vvas 
dressed  in  the  skin  walked  from  one  temple  to  another;  men 
and  women  followed  him,  shouting  for  joy."  While  we 
here  see  that  the  trophy  was  taken  primarily  as  a  proof  of 
the  victor's  prowess,  we  are  also  shown  how  there  resulted 
a  religious  ceremony:  the  trophy  was  displayed  for  the  sup- 
posed gratification  of  deities  delighting  in  bloodshed. 
There  is  further  evidence  that  this  was  the  intention.  "  At 
the  festival  of  the  goldsmiths'  god  Totec,  one  of  the  priests 
put  on  the  s'kin  of  a  captive,  and  being  so  dressed,  he  was 
the  image  of  that  god  Totec."     Nebel  (pi.  3,  fig.  1)  gives 


TROPHIES.  43 

the  basalt  figure  of  a  priest  (or  idol)  clothed  in  a  human 
skin;  and  additional  evidence  is  yielded  by  a  custom  in 
the  neighbouring  state  of  Yucatan,  where  "  the  bodies  were 
thrown  down  the  steps,  flayed,  the  priest  put  on  the  skins, 
and  danced,  and  the  body  was  buried  in  the  yard  of  the 
temple." 

Usually,  however,  the  skin-trophy  is  relatively  small :  the 
requirement  being  simply  that  it  shall  be  one  of  which  the 
body  yields  no  duplicate.  The  origin  of  it  is  well  shown  by 
the  following  description  of  a  practice  among  the  Abipones. 
They  preserve  the  heads  of  enemies,  and 

"  When  apprehension  of  approaching  hostilities  obliges  them  to 
remove  to  places  of  greater  security,  they  strip  the  heads  of  the  skin, 
cutting  it  from  ear  to  ear  beneath  the  nose,  and  dexterously  pulling  it 
off  along  with  the  hair.  .  .  .  That  Abipon  who  has  most  of  these 
skins  at  home,  excels  the  rest  in  military  renown." 
Evidently,  however,  the  whole  skin  is  not  needful  to  prove 
previous  possession  of  a  head.  The  part  covering  the 
crown,  distinguished  from  other  parts  by  the  arrangement 
of  its  hairs,  serves  the  purpose.  Hence  is  suggested  scalp- 
ing. Tales  of  Indian  life  have  so  far  familiarized  us  with 
this  custom  that  examples  are  needless.  But  one  piece  of 
evidence,  supplied  by  the  Shoshones,  may  be  named ;  be- 
cause it  clearly  shows  the  use  of  the  trophy  as  an  accepted 
evidence  of  victory — a  kind  of  legal  proof  regarded  as  alone 
conclusive.    -We  read  that 

"Taking  an  enemy's  scalp  is  an  honour  quite  independent  of  the 
act  of  vanquishing  him.  To  kill  your  adversary  is  of  no  importance 
imlcss  the  scalp  is  brought  from  the  field  of  battle,  and  were  a  war- 
rior to  slay  any  number  of  his  enemies  in  action,  and  others  were  to 
obtain  the  scalps,  or  first  touch  the  dead,  they  would  have  all  the 
honours,  since  they  have  borne  off  the  trophy." 
Though  Ave  usually  think  of  seal]>taking  in  connexion  with 
the  ISTorth  American  Indians,  yet  it  is  not  restricted  to  them. 
Herodotus  describes  the  Scythians  as  scalping  their  con- 
f|nercd  enemies;  and  at  the  present  time  the  Nagas  of  the 
Indian  hills  take  scalps  and  preserve  them. 


44:  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Proscrvation  of  liair  alone,  a>^  a  trophy,  is  less  general; 
(lonbtless  because  the  evidcMU'e  of  vietory  which  it  yields  is 
inconclusive :  one  head  niiiiht  sup})ly  hair  for  two  trophies. 
Still  there  are  cases  in  wliicli  an  enemy's  hair  is  displayed 
in  proof  of  success  in  war.  Speaking  of  a  Xaga,  Grange 
says  his  sliield  "  was  covered  over  with  the  hair  of  the  foes 
he  had  killed."  The  tunic  of  a  Mandan  chief  is  described 
as  "  fringed  with  locks  of  hair  taken  by  his  own  hand  from 
the  heads  of  his  enemies."  And  we  read  of  the  Cochimis 
that  "  at  certain  festivals  their  sorcerers  .  .  .  wore  long 
robes  of  skin,  ornamented  with  human  hair." 

§  353.  Among  easily-transported  i)arts  carried  home  to 
prove  victory,  may  next  be  named  hands  and  feet.  By  the 
Mexican  tribes,  Ceris  and  Opatas,  "  the  slain  are  scalped,  or 
a  hand  is  cut  off,  and  a  dance  perfonned  round  the  trophies 
on  the  field  of  battle."  So,  too,  of  the  California  Indians, 
who  also  took  scalps,  we  arc  told  that  "  the  yet  more  bar- 
barous habit  of  cutting  off  the  hands,  feet,  or  head  of  a  fallen 
enemy,  as  trophies  of  victory,  prevailed  more  widely.  Ihey 
also  plucked  out  and  carefully  preserved  the  eyes  of  the 
slain."  Though  this  is  not  said,  we  may  assume  that  either 
the  right  or  the  left  foot  or  hand  was  the  trojihy;  since,  in 
the  absence  of  any  distinction,  victory  over  two  enemies  in- 
stead of  one  might  be  alleged.  Tn  one  case,  indeed,  I  find 
the  distinction  noted.  "  The  right  hands  of  the  slain  wom 
hung  up  by  both  parties  [of  hostile  Khonds]  on  the  trees 
of  the  villages."  Hands  were  trophies  among  ancient  peo- 
ples of  the  old  world  also.  The  inscription  on  a  tomb  at  El 
Xab  ill  rpper  Egypt,  tells  how  Aahmes,  the  son  of  Abuna, 
the  chief  of  the  steersmen,  "  when  he  had  won  a  hand  |  in 
battle],  he  received  the  king's  commendation,  and  the 
golden  necklace  in  toke!i  of  his  bravery;  "  and  a  wall-paint- 
ing in  the  tem])le  of  ^Fedinet  AI)ou  at  Thebes,  shows  the 
presentation  of  a  heaj)  of  hands  to  the  king. 

This  last  instance  iiilrodiiccs  us  to  vet  another  kind  of 


TROPHIES.  '45 

trophy.  Along  with  the  heap,  of  hands  thns  hiid  before  the 
king,  there  is  represented  a  phalHc  heap;  and  an  accom- 
panying inscription,  narrating  the  victory  of  Meneptah  I. 
over  the  Libyans,  besides  mentioning  the  "  cut  hands  of  all 
their  auxiliaries,"  as  being  carried  on  donkeys  following  the 
retiu'ning  army,  mentions  these  other  trophies  as  taken 
from  men  of  the  Libyan,  nation.  And  here  a  natural  tran- 
sition brings  us  to  trophies  of  an  allied  kind,  the  taking  of 
which,  once  common,  has  continued  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Egypt  down  to  modern  times.  The  great  significance 
of  the  account  Bruce  gives  of  a  practice  among  the  Abys- 
sinians,  must  be  my  excuse  for  quoting  part  of  it.  He 
says : — 

"At  the  end  of  a  day  of  battle,  each  chief  is  obliged  to  sit  at  the 
door  of  his  tent,  and  eacli  of  his  followers  who  has  slain  a  man,  pre- 
sents himself  in  his  turn,  armed  as  in  fight,  with  the  bloody  foreskin 
of  the  man  he  has  slain.  ...  If  he  has  killed  more  than  one  man,  so 
many  more  times  he  returns.  .  .  .  After  this  ceremony  is  over,  each 
man  takes  his  bloody  conquest,  and  retires  to  prepare  it  in  the  same 
manner  the  Indians  do  their  scalps.  .  .  .  The  whole  army  ...  on  a 
particular  day  of  review,  throws  them  before  the  king,  and  leaves 
them  at  the  gate  of  the  palace." 

Here  it  is  noteworthy  that  the  trophy,  first  serving  to  dem- 
onstrate a  victory  gained  by  the  individual  warrior,  is 
subsequently  made  an  offering  to  the  ruler,  and  further  be- 
comes a  means  of  recording  the  nvimber  slain :  facts  verified 
by  the  more  recent  French  traveller  d'llericourt.  That 
like  puqjoses  were  similarly  served  among  the  Hebrews, 
proof  is  yielded  by  the  passage  which  narrates  Saul's  en- 
deavour to  l)etray  David  when  offering  him  Michal  to  wife: 
— "  And  Saul  said.  Thus  shall  ye  say  to  David,  The  king  de- 
sireth  not  any  dowry,  but  an  hundred  foreskins  of  the 
Philistines,  to  be  avenged  of  the  king's  enemies;  "  and 
David  "slew  of  the  Philistines  two  hundred  men;  and 
David  brought  their  foreskins,  and  gave  them  in  full  tale  to 
the  kiuff." 


46  CEREiMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§  354.  Associated  with  tlu^  direct  niotivo  for  taking 
trophies  there  is  an  indirect  motive,  whicli  ])robably  aids 
considerably  in  developing  the  custom.  When  treating  of 
primitive  ideas,  we  saw  that  the  nnanalytical  mind  of  the 
savage  thinks  the  qnalities  of  any  object  beside  in  all  its 
parts;  and  that,  among  others,  the  qnalities  of  human  be- 
ings are  thus  conceived  by  him.  From  this  we  found 
there  arise  such  customs  as  swallowing  ])arts  of  the  bodies 
of  dead  relatives,  or  their  ground  bon(>s  in  water,  with  the 
view  of  inlu>riting  their  virtues;  devouring  the  heart  of  a 
slain  brave  to  gain  his  courage,  or  his  eyes  in  the  expectation 
of  seeing  further;  avoiding  the  tlesh  of  certain  timid  ani- 
mals, lest  their  timidity  should  be  aciiuired.  A 
further  imjilication  of  this  belief  that  the  spiiit  of  each  per- 
son is  diffused  throughout  him,  is,  that  possession  of  a  part 
of  his  body  gives  possession  of  a  part  of  his  s])irit,  and, 
conse(]uently,  a  power  over  his  spirit:  one  corollary  being 
that  anything  done  to  a  preserved  part  of  a  corpse  is  done  to 
the  corresponding  part  of  the  gliost;  and  that  thus  a  ghost 
may  be  coerced  by  maltreating  a  relic.  Hence,  as  before 
pointed  out  (§  133),  the  origin  of  sorcery;  hence  the  rat- 
tle of  dead  men's  bones  so  prevalent  with  jirimitive  medi- 
cine-men; hence  "  the  powder  ground  from  the  bones  of  the 
dead  "  used  by  the  Peruvian  necromancers;  hence  the  por- 
tions of  corpses  which  our  own  traditions  of  witchcraft  name 
as  used  in  comjiosing  channs. 

Besides  pro\"ing  victory  over  an  enemy,  the  troi)hy  there- 
fore serves  for  the  subjugation  of  his  ghost;  and  that  pos- 
session of  it  is,  at  any  rate  in  some  cases,  su])]iosed  to  nud<e 
his  ghost  a  slave,  we  have  good  evidence.  The  ])rimitive 
belief  everywhere  found,  that  the  doubles  of  men  and 
animals  slain  at  the  grave,  accompany  the  double  of  the 
deceased,  to  serve  him  in  the  other  w^orld — the  belief  whicli 
leads  here  to  the  immolation  of  wives,  who  are  to  manage 
the  future  household  of  the  departed,  there  to  the  sacrifice 
of  horses  needed  to  carry  him  on  his  journey  after  death, 


TROPHIES.  47 

and  elsewhere  to  the  killing  of  dogs  as  guides;  is  a  belief 
which,  in  many  places,  initiates  the  kindred  belief  that,  by 
placing  portions  of  bodies  on  his  tomb,  the  men  and  animals 
they  belonged  to  are  made  subject  to  the  deceased.  We 
are  shown  this  by  the  bones  of  cattle,  &c.,  with  which  graves 
are  in  many  cases  decorated;  by  the  placing  on  graves  the 
heads  of  enemies  or  slaves,  as  above  indicated;  and  by  a 
like  use  of  the  scalp.  Concerning  the  Osages,  Mr.  Tylor 
cites  the  fact  that  they  sometimes  "  plant  on  the  cairn  raised 
over  a  corpse  a  pole  ^nth  an  enemy's  scalp  hanging  to  the 
top.  Their  notion  was  that  by  taking  an  enemy  and  sus- 
pending his  seal])  over  the  grave  of  a  deceased  friend,  the 
spirit  of  the  victim  became  subjected  to  the  spirit  of  the 
buried  wanior  in  the  land  of  spirits."  The  Ojibways  have 
a  like  practice,  of  which  a  like  idea  is  probably  the  cause. 

§  355.  A  collateral  development  of  trophy-taking,  which 
eventually  has  a  share  in  governmental  regulation,  must 
not  be  forgotten.  I  refer  to  the  display  of  parts  of  the  bod- 
ies of  criminals. 

In  our  more  advanced  minds  the  enemy,  the  criminal, 
and  the  slave,  are  well  discriminated;  but  they  are  little 
discriminated  by  the  primitive  man.  Almost  or  quite 
devoid  as  he  is  of  the  feelings  and  ideas  we  call  moral — 
holding  by  force  whatever  he  owns,  wresting  from  a  weaker 
man  the  woman  or  other  object  he  has  possession  of, 
killing  his  own  child  without  hesitation  if  it  is  an  incum- 
brance, or  his  wife  if  she  offends  him,  and  sometimes 
proud  of  being  a  recognized  killer  of  his  fellow-tribesmen; 
the  savag'e  has  no  distinct  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  in 
the  abstract.  The  immediate  pleasures  or  pains  they  give 
are  his  sole  reasons  for  classing  things  and  acts  as  good 
or  bad.  Hence  hostility,  and  the  injuries  he  suft'ers  from 
it,  excite  in  him  the  same  feeling  whether  the  aggressor 
is  without  the  tribe  or  within  it:  the  enemy  and  the  felon 
are  undistinguished.  This  confusion,  now  seeming 


4S  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

strange  to  lis,  wo  shall  iiiulci'staiul  better  on  remomboinnc; 
that  even  in  earl}'  stages  of  civilized  nations,  the  faniily- 
gronps  which  fonned  the  units  of  the  national  group,  were 
in  large  measure  independent  communities,  standing  to 
one  another  on  terms  much  like  those  on  which  the  nation 
stood  to  other  nations.  They  had  their  small  blood-feuds 
as  the  nation  had  its  great  blood-feuds.  Each  family-group 
was  responsible  to  other  family-groups  for  the  acts  of 
its  members,  as  each  nation  to  other  nations  for  the  acts  of 
its  citizens.  Vengeance  was  taken  on  innocent  members 
of  a  sinning  family,  as  vengeance  was  taken  on  innocent 
citizens  of  a  sinning  nation.  And  thus  in  various  ways  the 
inter-family  aggressor  (answering  to  the  modern  criminal), 
stood  in  a  like  relative  position  with  the  inter-national 
aggressor.  Hence  the  naturalness  of  the  fact  that 

he  was  similarly  treated.  Already  we  have  seen  how,  in 
mediaeval  days,  the  heads  of  destroyed  family-enemies  (mur- 
derers of  its  members  or  stealers  of  its  ]iroperty)  were  ex- 
hibited as  trophies.  And  since  Strabo,  writing  of  the  Gauls 
and  other  northeni  ])C()plcs,  says  that  the  heads  of  foes  slain 
in  battle  were  brought  back  and  sometimes  nailed  to  the 
chief  door  of  the  house,  while,  up  to  the  time  of  the  Salic 
law,  the  heads  of  slain  private  foes  were  fix<'d  on  stakes  in 
front  of  it;  we  have  evidence  that  identification  of  the  ]uib- 
lic  and  the  ])rivate  foe  was  associated  witli  the  jiractice  of 
taking  tro})hi('S  from  them  both.  A  kindred  alliance  is 
traceable  in  the  usages  of  the  rFews.  Along  with  the  slain 
Kicanor's  head,  Judas  orders  that  his  hand  be  cut  off;  and 
he  brings  both  with  him  to  Jerusalem  as  tro])hies:  the  hand 
iM'ing  that  which  he  had  stretched  out  in  blas]diemous 
boasts.  And  this  treatment  of  the  transgressor  who  is  an 
alien,  is  paralleled  in  the  treatment  of  non-alien  transgress- 
ors by  David,  who,  besides  hanging  up  the  cor])ses  of  the 
men  who  had  slain  Ishbosheth,  ''  cut  off  their  hands  and 
their  feet." 

It  may,  then,  be  reasouMbly  iiifei-red  that   display  of 


TROPHIES.  49 

executed  felons  on  gibbets,  or  their  heads  on  spikes, 
originates  from  the  bringing  back  of  trophies  taken  from 
slain  enemies.  Though  usually  a  part  only  of  the  slain 
enemy  is  fixed  up,  yet  sometimes  the  whole  body  is;  as 
when  the  dead  Saul,  minus  his  head,  was  fastened  by  the 
Philistines  to  the  wall  of  Bethshan.  And  that  fixing  up  a 
felon's  body  is  more  frequent,  probably  arises  from  the  fact 
that  it  has  not  to  be  brought  from  a  great  distance,  as 
would  usually  have  to  be  the  body  of  an  enemy. 

§356.  Though  no  direct  connexion  exists  between 
trophy-taking  and  ceremonial  government,  the  foregoing- 
facts  reveal  such  indirect  connexions  as  to  make  it  needful  to 
note  the  custom.  It  enters  as  a  factor  into  the  three  forms 
of  control — social,  political,  and  religious. 

If,  in  primitive  states,  men  are  honoured  according  to 
their  prowess — if  their  prowess  is  estimated  here  by  the 
number  of  heads  they  can  show,  there  by  the  number  of 
jaw-bones,  and  elsewhere  by  the  number  of  scalps, — if  such 
trophies  are  treasured  up  for  generations,  and  the  pride  of 
families  is  proportioned  to  the  number  of  them  taken  by 
ancestors — if  of  the  Gauls  in  the  time  of  Posidonius,  we 
read  that  "  the  heads  of  their  enemies  that  were  the  chief  est 
persons  of  quality,  they  carefully  deposit  in  chests,  em- 
balming them  with  the  oil  of  cedars,  showing  them  to 
strangers,  glory  and  boast  "  that  they  or  their  forefathers 
had  refused  great  sums  of  money  for  them;  then,  obviously, 
a  kind  of  class  distinction  is  initiated  by  trophies.  On 
reading  that  in  some  places  a  man's  rank  varies  with  the 
quantity  of  bones  in  or  upon  his  dwelling,  we  cannot  deny 
tha;t  the  display  of  these  proofs  of  personal  superiority, 
originates  a  regulative  influence  in  social  intercourse. 

As  political  control  evolves,  trophy-taking  becomes  in 
several  ways  instrumental  to  the  maintenance  of  authority. 
Beyond  the  awe  felt  for  the  chief  whose  many  trophies 
show  his  powers  of  destruction,  there  comes  the  greater 


50  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

awe  which,  on  growing  into  a  king  with  subordinate  chiefs 
and  dependent  tribes,  he  excites  by  accunnilating  the  tro- 
phies others  take  on  his  behalf;  rising  into  dread  when  he 
exhibits  in  numbers  the  rehcs  of  slain  rulers.  As  the  prac- 
tice assumes  this  developed  form,  the  receipt  of  such  vicari- 
ously-taken trophies  j)asscs  into  a  political  ceremony.  The 
heap  of  hands  laid  before  an  ancient  Egyptian  king,  served 
to  propitiate;  as  now  serves  the  mass  of  jawbones  sent  by  an 
Ashantce  captain  to  the  court.  When  we  read  of  Timour's 
soldiers  that  *'  their  cruelty  was  enforced  by  the  peremptory 
command  of  producing  an  adequate  number  of  heads,"  we 
are  conclusively  shown  that  the  presentation  of  trophies 
hardens  into  a  form  expressing  obedience.  ]\\)r  is  it  thus 
only  that  a  political  eifect  results.  There  is  the  govern- 
mental restraint  produced  by  fixing  up  the  bodies  or  heads 
of  the  insubordinate  and  the  felonious. 

Though  offering  ])art  of  a  slain  enemy  to  propitiate  a 
ghost,  does  not  cuter  into  what  is  connuonly  called  religious 
cereuionial,  yet  it  obviously  so  enters  when  the  aim  is  to 
propitiate  a  god  develo})ed  from  an  ancestral  ghost.  We 
are  shown  the  transition  by  such  a  fact  as  that  in  a  battle 
between  two  tribes  of  Khonds,  the  first  man  who  ''  slew  his 
opponent,  struck  off  his  right  arm  and  rushed  with  it  to  the 
piiest  in  the  rear,  who  bore  if  ofl"  as  an  offering  to  Laha 
Pennoo  in  his  grave:  "  Laha  Pennoo  being  their  "  (lod  of 
Arms."  Joining  with  this  siudi  other  facts  as  that  before  the 
'J'ahitian  god  Oro,  human  immolations  were  frequent,  and 
the  preserved  rehcs  were  built  int(»  walls  "  formed  entirely 
of  human  skulls,"  which  were  "  priucii)ally,  if  not  entirely 
the  skulls  of  those  slain  in  battle;  "  we  are  shown  that  gods 
are  worshipped  by  bringing  to  them,  and  accumulat- 
ing round  their  shrines,  these  ]x>rtions  of  enemies  killed 
— ^killed,  very  often,  in  fulfilment  of  their  suj^posed  com- 
mands. This  inference  is  verified  on  seeing  similar- 
ly used  other  kinds  of  spoils.  The  Philistines,  besides 
otherwise  displaying  relics  of  the  dead   Saul,   put   "  his 


TROPHIES.  51 

armour  in  the  house  of  Aslitarotli."  By  the  Greeks  the 
troph}^  formed  of  arms,  shields,  and  hehnets  taken  from  the 
(k-feated,  was  consecrated  to  some  divinity ;  and  the  Romans 
deposited  the  spoils  of  battle  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter 
Capitolinus.  Similarly  among  the  Fijians,  who  are  solicit- 
ous in  every  way  to  propitiate  their  blood-thirsty  deities, 
"  when  flags  are  taken  they  are  always  hung  up  as  trophies 
in  the  mhure,^''  or  temple.  That  hundreds  of  gilt  spurs  of 
French  knights  vanquished  by  the  Flemish  in  the  battle  of 
Courtrai,  were  deposited  in  the  church  of  that  place,  and 
that  in  France  flags  taken  from  enemies  were  suspended 
from  the  vaults  of  cathedrals  (a  practice  not  unknown  in 
Protestant  England),  are  facts  which  might  be  joined  with 
these,  did  not  joining  them  imply  the  impossible  supposition 
that  Christians  think  to  please  "  the  God  of  love  "  by  acts 
like  those  used  to  please  the  diabolical  gods  of  cannibals. 

Because  of  inferences  to  be  hereafter  drawn,  one  remain- 
ing general  truth  must  be  named,  though  it  is  so  obvious 
as  to  seem  scarcely  worth  mention.  Trophy-taking  is  di- 
rectly related  to  militancy.  It  begins  during  a  primitive 
life  that  is  wholly  occupied  in  fighting  men  and  animals;  it 
develops  with  the  growth  of  conquering  societies  in  which 
perpetual  wars  generate  the  militant  type  of  structure;  it 
diminishes  as  growing  industrialism  more  and  more  substi- 
tutes productive  activities  for  destructive  activities;  and 
complete  industrialism  necessitates  entire  cessation  of  it. 
The  chief  significance  of  trophy-taking,  however,  has 
yet  to  be  pointed  out.  The  reason  for  here  dealing  with  it, 
though  in  itself  scarcely  to  be  classed  as  a  ceremony,  is  that 
it  furnishes  us  with  the  key  to  numerous  ceremonies  pre- 
vailing all  over  the  world  among  the  uncivilized  and  semi- 
civilized.  From  the  practice  of  cutting  ofi"  and  taking  away 
jiortions  of  the  dead  body,  there  grows  up  the  practice  of 
cutting  off  portions  of  the  living  body. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MUTILATIONS. 

§  357.  Facility  of  exposition  will  be  gained  by  ap- 
proaching indirectly  the  facts  and  conclusions  here  to  be 
set  forth. 

The  ancient  ceremony  of  inf eftnient  in  Scotland  was 
completed  thns: — "  He  [superior's  attorney]  would  stoo]) 
down,  and,  lifting  a  stone  and  a  handful  of  earth,  hand 
these  over  to  the  new  vassal's  attorney,  thereby  conferring 
upon  him  '  real,  actual,  and  corporal '  possession  of  the 
fief."  Among  a  distant  slightly-civilized  people,  a  parallel 
usage  occurs.  On  selling  his  cultivated  plot,  a  Khond. 
having  invoked  the  village  deity  to  bear  witness  to  the  sale, 
'*  then  delivers  a  handful  of  soil  to  the  puirhasor."  From 
cases  where  the  transfer  of  lands  for  a  consideration  is  thus 
expressed,  we  may  pass  to  cases  where  lands  are  by  a  simi- 
lar form  surrendered  to  show  political  submission.  When 
tho  Athenians  ap])lied  for  help  against  the  Spartans, 
after  the  attack  of  Kleomenes,  a  confession  of  subordination 
was  demanded  in  retiini  for  the  protection  asked ;  and  the 
confession  was  made  by  sending  earth  and  water.  A  like 
act  has  a  like  meaning  in  Fiji.  ''  The  soro  with  a  basket  of 
earth  ...  is  generally  connected  with  war,  and  is  pre- 
sented by  the  weaker  l)arty,  indicating  the  yielding  up  of 
tlicir  laud  to  the  conquerors."  And  so  is  it  in  India.  When 
some  ten  years  ago,  Tu-wen-hsiu  sent  his  "  Panthay  "  mis- 
sion to  England,  "  they  carried  with  them  pieces  of  rock 


MUTILATIONS.  53 

hewn  from  tlie  four  corners  of  the  [Tali]  uiouiitain,  as  tlie 
most  formal  expression  of  his  desire  to  become  feudatory 
to  the  British  Crown." 

This  giving  a  part  instead  of  giving  the  whole,  where 
the  whole  cannot  be  mechanically  handed  over,  will  perhaps 
be  instanced  as  a  symbolic  ceremony;  though,  even  in  the 
absence  of  any  further  interpretation,  we  may  say  that  it 
approaches  as  nearly  to  actual  transfer  as  the  nature  of  the 
case  permits.  We  are  not,  however,  obliged  to  regard 
this  ceremony  as  artificially  devised.  We  may  affiliate  it 
upon  a  simpler  ceremony  which  at  once  elucidates  it,  and 
is  elucidated  by  it.  I  refer  to  surrendering  a  part  of  the 
body  as  implying  surrender  of  the  whole.  In  Fiji,  tribu- 
taries approaching  their  masters  were  told  by  a  messenger 
"  that  they  must  all  cut  off  their  tohe  (locks  of  hair  that 
are  left  like  tails).  .  .  They  all  docked  their  tails."  Still, 
it  may  be  replied  that  this  act,  too,  is  a  symbolic  act — an 
act  artificially  devised  rather  than  naturally  derived.  If 
we  carry  our  inquiry  a  step  back,  however,  we  shall  find  a 
clue  to  its  natural  derivation. 

First,  let  us  remember  the  honour  which  accrues  from 
accumulated  trophies;  so  that,  among  the  Shoshones  for 
instance,  "  he  who  takes  the  most  scalps  gains  the  most 
glory."  Let  us  join  '\^dth  this  Bancroft's  statement 
respecting  the  treatment  of  prisoners  by  the  Chichimecs, 
that  "  often  they  were  scalped  while  yet  alive,  and  the 
bloody  trophy  placed  upon  the  heads  of  their  tormentors." 
And  then  let  us  ask  wliat  happens  if  the  scalped  enemy  sur- 
vives. The  captor  preserves  the  scalp  as  an  addition  to  his 
otluu-  trophies;  the  vanquished  enemy  becomes  his  slave; 
and  he  is  shown  to  be  a  slave  by  the  loss  of  his  scalp. 
Here,  then,  are  the  beginnings  of  a  custom  that  may  be- 
come established  when  social  conditions  make  it  advanta- 
geous to  keep  conquered  foes  as  servants  instead  of  eating 
them.  The  conservative  savage  changes  as  little  as  possi- 
ble.    While  the  new  practice  of  enslaving  the  captured 


54  .        CEREMO^ilAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

arises,  the  old  practice  of  cutting  from  their  bodies  such 
parts  as  serve  for  trophies  continues;  and  the  marks  left 
become  marks  of  subjugation.  Gradually  as  the  receipt 
of  such  marks  comes  to  imply  bondage,  not  only  will  those 
taken  in  war  be  marked,  but  also  those  born  to  them; 
until  at  length  the  bearing  of  the  mark  shows  subordination 
in  general. 

That  submission  to  mutilation  may  eventually  grow  into 
the  sealing  of  an  agreement  to  be  bondsmen,  is  shown  us 
by  Hebrew  history.  "  Then  Xahash  the  Ammonite  came 
up,  and  encamped  against  Jabesh-gilead:  and  all  the  men 
of  Jabesh  said  unto  Xahash,  JMake  a  covenant  with  us, 
and  we  will  serve  thee.  And  Nahasli  the  Ammonite  an- 
swered them.  On  this  condition  will  I  make  a  covenant 
with  you,  that  I  may  thrust  out  all  your  riglit  eyes."  They 
agreed  to  become  subjects,  and  the  mutilation  (not  in  this 
case  consented  to,  however)  Avas  to  mark  their  subjection. 
And  while  mutilations  thus  ser^'e,  like  the  brands  a  farmer 
puts  on.  his  sheep,  to  show  first  pnvate  ownership  and 
afterwards  political  ownership,  they  also  serve  as  perpetual 
reminders  of  the  ruler's  power:  so  keeping  alive  the  dread 
that  brings  obedience.  This  fact  we  see  in  the  statement 
that  when  the  second  Basil  deprived  fifteen  thousand  Bul- 
garian captives  of  sight,  ''  the  nation  was  awed  by  this  terri- 
ble example." 

Just  adding  that  the  bearing  of  a  mutilation,  thus  be- 
coming the  mark  of  a  subject  race,  survives  as  a  token  of 
submission  when  the  trophy-taking  which  originated  it  has 
disappeared ;  let  us  now  note  the  different  kinds  of  nuitila- 
tions,  and  the  ways  in  which  they  severally  cntej*  into  the 
three  forms  of  control — political,  religious,  and  social. 

§  358.  When  the  Aiancanians  on  going  to  war  send 
messengers  summoning  confederate  tribes,  these  messengers 
carry  certain  arrows  as  their  credentials;  and,  "  if  hostilities 
are  actually  commenced,  the  finger,  or  (as  Alcedo  will  have 


MUTILATIONS.  55 

it)  tlie  hand  of  a  slain  enemy,  is  joined  to  the  arrows  " — 
another  instance,  added  to  those  already  given,  in  which 
hands,  or  parts  of  them,  are  brought  home  to  show  victory. 

AVe  have  proof  that  in  some  eases  living  vanquished 
men,  made  hand  less  by  this  kind  of  trophy-taking,  are 
brought  back  from  battle.  King  Osymandyas  reduced  the 
revolted  Bactrians;  and  as  shown  ''  on  the  second  wall  "  of 
tlie  monument  to  him  ''  the  prisoners  are  brought  forward: 
they  are  without  their  hands  and  members."  But  though  a 
conquered  enemy  niay  have  one  of  his  hands  taken  as  a 
tropliy  without  much  endangering  his  life,  loss  of  a  hand  so 
greatly  diminishes  his  value  as  a  slave,  that  some  other 
trophy  is  naturally  ])referred. 

The  like  cannot,  however,  be  said  of  a  finger.  That 
fingers  are  sometimes  carried  home  as  trophies  we  have  just 
seen;  and  that  conquered  enemies,  mutilated  by  loss  of  fin- 
gers, are  sometimes  allowed  to  live  as  slaves,  the  Bible 
}delds  proof.  In  Judges  i.  6,  7,  we  read: — "  Adoni-bezek 
[the  Canaanite]  fled;  and  they  pursued  after  him,  and 
caught  him,  and  cut  off  his  thumbs  and  his  great  toes.  And 
Adoni-bezek  said,  Threescore  and  ten  kings,  having  their 
thumbs  and  their  great  toes  cut  off,  gathered  their  meat 
under  my  table:  as  I  have  done,  so  God  hath  requited  me." 
Hence,  then,  the  fact  that  fingers  are,  in  various  places,  cut 
off  and  offered  in  propitiation  of  living  rulers,  in  propitiation 
of  dead  rulers,  and  in  propitiation  of  dead  relatives.  The 
sanguinary  Fijians,  extreme  in  their  loyalty  to  cannibal 
despots,  yield  sundry  illustrations.  Describing  tlic  se- 
quence of  an  alleged  insult,  Williams  says: — "  A  messenger 
was  .  .  .'  sent  to  the  chief  of  the  offender  to  demand  an 
explanation,  which  was  fortliwith  given,  togethei-  with  the 
fingers  of  four  persons,  to  appease  the  angry  chieftain." 
On  the  occasion  of  a  chief's  death,  "  orders  were  issued  that 
one  hundred  fingers  should  be  cut  off;  but  only  sixty  were 
amputated,  one  woman  losing  her  life  in  consequence." 
Once  more,  a  child's  hand  "  was  covered  with  blood,  which 


56  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

flowed  from  tlio  stuiu])  where,  shortly  before,  his  little  finger 
liacl  been  cut  olf,  as  a  token  of  affeetion  for  his  deceased  fath- 
er." This  proj^itiation  of  the  dead  by  ortering  lingers, 
or  parts  of  them,  oceui's  elsewhere.  When,  among  the 
Charnias,  the  head  of  the  family  dii'(l,  ''  the  danght(n*s, 
widow,  and  married  sisters  were  obliged  to  have,  each  one 
joint  from  the  finger  cnt  otf;  and  this  was  repeated  for 
every  relation  of  the  like  eharaetcr  who  died:  the  primary 
am})ntation  being  from  the  little  finger.".  I3y  the  ^landans, 
the  nsnal  mode  of  expressing  grief  on  the  death  of  a  relation 
"  was  to  lose  two  joints  of  the  little  fingers,  or  sometimes 
the  other  fingei's."  A  like  eustoni  was  fonnd  among  the 
Daeotahs  and  various  other  Aniei'icau  tribes.  Sacrificed 
in  this  way  to  the  ghost  of  the  dead  relative,  or  the  dead 
chief,  to  express  that  subjection  which  would  have  pacified 
him  while  alive,  the  amputated  iinger  becomes,  in  other 
cases,  a  sacrifice  to  the  expanded  ghost  or  god.  During  his 
initiation  the  ]\landan  warrior,  *'  holding  up  the  little  finger 
of  his  left  hand  to  tlie  Great  Spirit,  he  expresses  to  Him,  in 
a  speech  of  a  few  words,  his  willingness  tt)  give  it  as  a  sacri- 
fice; when  he  lays  it  on  the  dried  bufi'alo  skull,  where  the 
other  chops  it  off  near  the  hand  with  a  blow  of  the  hatchet." 
And  the  natives  of  Tonga  cut  ofi"  a  poi-tion  of  the  little  fin- 
ger as  a  sacrifice  to  the  gods,  for  the  recovery  of  a  superior 
sick  relative. 

Originally  expressing  submission  to  powerful  beings 
ali.ve  and  dead,  this  nuitilation  in  some  cases  becomes,  apj^ar- 
ently,  a  mark  of  domestic  subordination.  The  Australians 
have  a  custom  of  cutting  off  the  last  joint  of  the  little  finger 
of  females;  and  a  Hottentot  "  widow,  who  marries  a  second 
time,  must  have  the  to])  joint  of  a  finger  cut  off,  and  loses 
another  joint  for  the  tliii-d,  and  so  on  for 'each  time  that  she 
enters  into  wedhx-k." 

As  showing  the  way  in  which  these  pi'o|)itiatoi-y  nuitila- 
tions  of  the  hands  are  made  so  as  to  interfere  least  with 
usefulness,  it  njay  be  noted  that  habitmdly  they  begin  with 


MUTILATIONS.  57 

the  last  joint  of  the  little  fing-er,  and  affect  tlie  more  impor- 
tant parts  of  the  hand  only  if  they  recur.  And  where,  by 
amputating  the  hand,  there  is  repeated  in  full  the  original 
mutilation  of  slain  enemies,  it  is  where  the  usefulness  of  the 
subject  persons  not  a  consideration,  but  where  the  treat- 
ment of  the  external  enemj'  is  extended  to  the  internal 
enemy — the  criminal.  The  Hebrews  made  the  loss  of  a 
hand  a  punishment  for  one  kind  of  offence,  as  shown  in 
Deuteronomy,  xxv.  11,  12.  In  ancient  Egypt,  forgers  and 
other  falsifiers  lost  both  hands.  Of  a  Japanese  political 
transgressor  it  is  said — "  His  hands  were  ordered  to  be 
struck  oif,  which  in  Japan  is  the  very  extremity  of  dishon- 
our." In  mediaeval  Europe  hands  were  cut  off 'for  various 
offences. 

§  359.  Recent  accounts  from  the  East  prove  that  some 
of  the  vanquished  deprived  of  their  noses  by  their  conquer- 
ors, survive;  and  those  who  do  so,  remain  identifiable  there- 
after as  conquered  men.  Consequently,  lack  of  a  nose  may 
become  the  mark  of  a  slave ;'  and  in  some  cases  it  does  this. 
Certain  of  the  ancient  Central  Americans  challenged  neigh- 
bouring peoples  when  "  they  wanted  slaves;  if  the  other 
])arty  did  not  accept  of  the  challenge,  they  ravaged  their 
country  and  cut  off  the  noses  of  the  slaves."  And,  describ- 
ing a  war  carried  on  during  his  captivity  in  Ashantee,  Ram- 
seyer  says  the  Ashantces  spared  one  prisoner,  "  whose  head 
was  shaved,,  nose  and  ears  cut  off,  and  himself  made  to 
carry  the  king's  drum." 

Along  with,  loss  of  nose  occurs,  in  the  last  case,  loss  of 
enrs.  This  is  similarly  interprctable  as  having  originated 
from  trophy-taking,  and  having  in  some  cases  survived,  if 
not  as  a  mark  of  ordinary  slavery,  still,  as.  a  mark  of  that 
other  slavery  which  is  a  punishment  for  crime.  In  ancient 
^Mexico  "  he  who  told  a  lie  to  the  particular  prejudice  of 
another  had  a  part  of  his  lip  cut  off,  and  sometimes  his 
ears."     Among  the  Honduras  people  a  thief  had  his  goods 


58  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

confiscated,  ''  and,  if  the  theft  was  yer\-  great,  they  cut  off 
his  ears  and  hands."  A  law  of  an  adjacent  people,  the 
JNliztccs,  directed  the  "  cntting  off  of  an  adulterer's  cars, 
nose,  or  lips;  "  and  by  some  of  the  Zapotecas,  "  women  con- 
victed of  adultery  had  their  ears  and  noses  cut  off." 

Biit  though  absence  of  ears  seems  more  generally  to  have 
marked  a  criminal  than  a  vanquished  enemy  who  had  sur- 
vived the  taking  of  his  cai*s  as  trophies,  we  may  suspect 
that  oi"iginally  it  was  a  trait  of  an  enslaved  captive;  and 
that  by  mitigation,  it  gave  rise  to  the  method  of  marking  a 
slave  that  was  used  by  the  Hebrews,  and  still  continues  in 
the  East  with  a  modified  meaning.  In  Exodus  xxi.  5,  6,  we 
read  that  if,  after  his  six' years'  service,  a  ])urchased  slave 
does  not  wish  to  be  free,  his  master  shall  "  bring  him  to  the 
door,  or  unto  the  door-post,  and  his  master  shall  bore  his 
ear  through  with  an  awl,  and  he  shall  serve  him  for  ever." 
Connnenting  on  this  ceremony  Knobel  says: — "  In  the  mod- 
ern East,  the  symbol  of  piercing  the  ears  is  mentioned  as 
tlie  mark  of  those  who  arc  dedicated.  ...  It  expresses  the 
belonging  to  somebody."  And  since  where  there  grows  up 
unqualified  des{>otism,  private  slavery  is  joiucd  with  ])ublic 
slavery,  and  the  accepted  theory  is  that  all  subjects  are  the 
property  of  the  ruler,  we  may  suspect  that  there  hence 
results  in  some  cases  the  universality  of  this  mutihition. 
"  All  the  Burmese  without  exception  have  the  custom  of 
boriug  their  ears.  The  day  when  the  operation  is  per- 
formed is  kept  as  a  festival ;  for  this  custom  holds,  in  their 
estimation,  something  of  the  rank  that  baptism  has  in  ours." 
As  indirect  evidence,  I  may  add  the  curious  fact  that  the 
Gond  holds  "  his  eai-s  in  his  hands  in  token  of  submission." 

A  related  nsage  mnst  be  noted :  the  insertion  of  a  ring  in 
the  nose.  rommenting  on  this  as  exemplified  by  some 
women  of  Astrachan,  Bell  sa^ys — "  I  was  told  that  it  was 
the  conseqnjence  of  a  religious  dedication  of  these  persona 
to  the  service  of  Ood."  Xow  read  the  following  passage 
from  Isaiah  about  Sennacherib: — "  This  is  the  word  that 


•      MUTILATIONS.  59 

the  Lord  liatli  spoken  concerning  him.  .  .  I  will  put  my 
hook  in  thy  nose,  and  my  bridle  in  thy  lips."  And  then 
add  the  fact  that  in  Assyrian  sculptures  are  represented 
prisoners  being  led  by  cords  attached  to  rings  through  their 
noses.  Do  we  not  see  a  kindred  filiation — conquest,  inci- 
dental marking  of  the  captive,  survival  of  the  mark  as 
distinguishing  subject  persons? 

§  360.  Jaws  can  be  taken  only  from  those  whose  lives 
are  taken.  There  are  the  teeth,  however:  some  of  these 
may  be  extracted  as  trophies  without  seriously  decreasing 
the  usefulness  of  the  2:)risoner.  Hence  another  form  of 
mutilation. 

We  have  seen  that  teeth  of  slain  foes  are  worn  in 
Ashantee  and  in  South  America.  Xow  if  teeth  are  taken 
as  trophies  from  captives  who  are  preserved  as  slaves,  loss 
of  them  must  become  a  mark  of  subjection.  Of  facts 
directly  showing  that  a  propitiatory  ceremony  hence  arises 
I  can  name  but  one.  Among  mutilations  undergone  when 
a  king  or  chief  dies  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  Ellis  names 
knocking  out  one  of  the  front 'teeth:  an  alternative  being 
cutting  the  ears.  When  we  further  read  in  Cook  that  the 
Sandwich  Islanders  knock  out  from  one  to  four  of  the  front 
teeth,  showing  that  the  whole  population  becomes  marked 
by  these  repeated  umtilations  suffered  to  propitiate  the 
ghosts  of  dead  nilers — when  we  infer  that  in  propitiation  of 
a  much-dreaded  ruler  deified  after  death,  not  only  those 
wlio  knew  him  may  submit  to  this  loss,  but  also  their  chil- 
dren subsequently  bom;  we  see  how  the  practice,  becoming 
established,  may  survive  as  a  sacred  custom  when  its  mean- 
ing is  lost.  For  concluding  that  the  practice  has  this 
sacramental  nature,  there  are  the  further  reasons  derived 
from  the  fixing  of  the  age  for  the  operation,  and  from  the 
character  of  the  operator.  In  New  South  Wales  it  is  the 
Koradger  men,  or  priests,  who  perform  the  ceremony;  and 
of  a  semi-domesticated  Australian,  Ilaygarth  writes  that  he 


60  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

siiitl  one  (lay,  "  with  a  look  of  importance,  that  he  iinist  go 
away  for  a  few  days,  as  he  had  <»rown  u[)  to  man's  estat(>, 
and  '  it  was  high  time  that  he  should  have  his  teeth  knocked 
out.'  "  ^''arious  African  races,  as  the  Batoka,  the  Dor, 
similarly  lose  two  or  more  of  their  fro\it  teeth;  and 
habitually  the  loss  of  them  is  an  oblioatory  rite.  Hut  the 
best  evidence  is  furnished  by  the  ancient  Peruvians. 
A  tradition  amonc;  certain  of  them  was  that  the  coiKjueror 
Iluayna  Ccapac,  linding  them  disobedient,  ''  made  a  law 
that  they  and  their  descendants  should  have  three  of  their 
front  teeth  pulled  out  in  each  jaw."  Another  tradition, 
naturally  derivable  from  the  last,  was  that  this  extraction  of 
teeth  by  fathers  from  their  children  was  a  "  service  very 
acceptable  to  their  gods."  And  then,  as  happens  with 
other  mutilations  of  which  the  meaning  has  dropped  out  of 
memory,  the  improvement  of  the  appearance  was  in  some 
parts  the  assigned  motive. 

§  361.  As  the  transition  from  eating  conquerefl  enemies 
to  making  slaves  of  them,  mitigates  tr(^phy-taking  so  as  to 
avoid,  causing  death ;  and  as  the  tendency  is  to  modify  the 
injury  inflicted  so  that  it  shall  in  the  least  degree  diminish 
the  slave's  usefulness;  and  as,  with  the  rise  of  a  class  born 
in  slavery,  the  mark  Avhich  the  slave  bears,  no  longer  show- 
ing that  he  w^as  taken  in  war,  does  not  im})ly.a  victory 
achieved  by  his  owner;  there  eventually  remains  no  rea- 
son for  a  mark  wdiicli  involves  serious  mutilation.  Hence 
it  is  inferable  that  mutilations  of  the  least  injurious  kinds 
will  become  the  commonest.  Such,  at  any  rate,  seems  a 
reasonable  explanation  of  the  fact  that  cutting  off  of  hair 
is  the  most  jn-evalent  nmtilation. 

Already  we  have  seen  the  probable  origin  of  the  custom 
in  Fiji,  wdierc  tributaries  had  to  sacrifice  their  locks  on 
approaching  their  great  chiefs;  and  there  is  evidence  that  a 
kindred  sacrifice  was  demanded  of  old  in  Britain.  In  the 
Arthurian  legends,  which,  unhistoric  as  they  may  be,  yield 


MUTILATIONS.  '  61 

good  evidence  respecting  the  manners  of  the  times  from 
which  they  descend,  we  read,  "  Then  went  Arthur  to  Caer- 
leon ;  and  thither  came  messengers  from  King  Ryons,  who 
said,  '  Eleven  kings  have  done  me  homage,  and  with  their 
beards  I  have  trimmed  a  mantle.  Send  me  now  thy  beard, 
for  there  lacks  yet  one  to  the  finishing  of  my  mantle.'  " 

Reasons  exist  for  the  belief  that  taking  an  enslaved 
captive's  hair,  began  with  the  smallest  practicable  diver- 
gence from  taking  the  dead  enemy's  scalp;  for  the  part  of 
the  hair  in  some  cases  given  in  propitiation,  and  in  other 
cases,  worn  snbject  to  a  master's  ownership,  answers  in  posi- 
tion to  the  scalp-lock.  The  tohe  yielded  up  by  the  tributary 
Fijians  was  a  kind  of  pigtail:  the  implication  being  that 
this  conld  be  demanded  by,  and  therefore  belonged  to,  the 
superior.     Moreover,  among  the  Kahnucks, 

"When  one  pulls  another  by  the  pigtail,  or  actuallj^  tears  it  out, 
this  is  regarded  as  a  punishable  offence,  because  the  pigtail  is  thought 
to  belong  to  the  chief,  or  to  be  a  sign  of  subjection  to  him.  If  it  is 
the  short  hair  on  the  top  of  the  head  that  has  been  subjected  to  such 
treatment,  it  does  not  constitute  a  jwnishable  offence,  because  this  is 
considered  the  man's  own  hair  and  not  that  of  the  chief." 
x\nd  then  I  may  add  the  statement  of  Williams,  that  the 
Tartar  conquerors  of  China  ordered  the  Chinese  "  to  adopt 
the  national  Tartar  mode  of  shaving  the  front  of  the  head, 
and  braiding  the  hair  in  a  long  queue,  as  a  sign  of  sub- 
mission." ■  Another  fact  presently  to  be  given  joins  with 
these  in  suggesting  that  a  vanquished  man,  not  killed  but 
kept  as  a  slave,  wore  his  scalp-lock  on  sufferance. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  however,  the  widely-prevalent  custom 
of  taking  the  hair  of  the  conquered,  either  with  or  without 
part  of  the  skin,  has  nearly  everywhere  resulted  in  the  asso- 
ciation between  short  hair  and  slavery.  This  association 
existed  among  both  Greeks  and  Romans:  "the  slaves 
had  their  hair  cut  short  as  a  mark  of  servitude."  We 
find.it  the  same  throughout  America.  "  Socially  the  slave 
is  despised,  his  hair  is  cut  short,"  says  Bancroft  of  the 


62  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

Xootkas;  and  "  the  privilege  of  wearing  long  hair  was  rig- 
orously denied  "  to  Carfb  slaves  and  (•ai)tives.  The  slavery 
that  punished  eriniinality  was  siuiilarly  luarked.  In  Nica- 
ragua, "  a  chief  had  Ids  hnii-  cut  ofV  and  becauie  a  slave  to 
the  })erson  that  had  heen  rohhed  till  he  was  satisfied." 
Xaturally,  infliction  of  the  slave-badge  grew  into  a  ])unish- 
menti  By  the  Ceuti-al  Americans  a  suspected  a(bdt(n'(n- 
''  was  stri])}ied  aiul  his  hair  was  cut."  One  aucicnt 
]\rexican  jieualty  "  was  to  have  the  hair  cut  at  some  ])ublic 
place."  And  during  mediaeval  times  in  Europe  cutting  of 
hair  was  a  punishment.  Of  C(^urse,   by  contrast, 

long  hair  became  a  distinction.  If  among  the  Chibchas 
''  the  greatest  affront  that  could  be  put  on  a  m;ui  or  a  woman 
was  to  have  their  hair  cropped,"  the  assimilation  to  slaves  in 
appearance  was  the  reason:  the  honourableness  of  long 
hair  being  an  implication.  "  The  Itzaex  Indians,"  says 
Fancourt,  '^  wore  their  hair  as  long  as  it  would  grow;  in- 
deed, it  is  a  most  difficult  thing  to  bi-iug  the  Indians  to  cut 
their  hair."  Long  hair  shows  rank  among  theT'ongans: 
none  are  permitted  to  wear  it  but  the  principal  ]ieople. 
Similarly  with  the  Xew  Caledonians  and  various  others  of 
the  uncivilized;  and  similarly  wath  senu-civilized  Orien- 
tals: "  the  Ottoman  princes  have  their  beard  shaved  pfF  to 
show  that  they  arc  dependent  on  the  favour  of  the  reigning 
emperor."  By  the  Greeks,  ''  in  manhood,  .  .  .  hair  was 
worn  "longer,"  and  "  a  certain  political  significancy  Avas 
attached  to  the  hair."  In  Northern  Europe,  too,  ''  among 
the  Franks  .  .  .  the  serfs  wore  the  hair  less  long  and 
less  carefully  dressed  than  freemen,"  and  the  freemen 
less  long  than  the  nobles.  "  The  hair  of  the  Frank  kings 
is  sacred.  ...  It  is  for  them  a  mark  and  honourable 
prerogative  of  tlie  royal  race:"  Clothair  and  Childebert, 
wishing  to  divide  their  brother's  kingdom,  consulted  re- 
specting their  nephews,  "  whether  to  cut  off  their  hair  so  as 
to  reduce  them  to  the  rank  of  subjects,  or  to  kill  them."  I 
may    add    the    extreme    case    of    the    Japanese    Mikado. 


MUTILATIONS.  63 

"  Xeither  his  hair,  beard,  nor  nails  are  ever  [avowedly] 
cut,  so  that  his  sacred  i:)erson  may  not  be  mutilated:  "  such 
cutting  as  occurs  being  done  while  he  is  supposed  to  sleep. 

A  parallel  marking  of  divine  rank  may  be  noted  in  pass- 
ing. '  Length  of  hair  being  significant  of  terrestrial  digiiity 
becomes  significant,  too,  of  celestial  dignity.  The  gods 
of  various  peoples,  and  especially  the  great  gods,  are  distin- 
guished by  their  flowing  beards  and  long  locks. 

Domestic  subordination  also,  in  many  cases  goes  along 
with  short  hair.  Under  low  social  conditions,  females  com- 
monly bear  this  badge  of  slavery.  In  Samoa  the  women 
wear  the  hair  short  while  the  men  wear  it  long ;  and  among 
other  Malayo-Polynesians,  as  the  Tahitians  and  iSTew  Zea- 
landers,  the  like  contrast  occurs.  Similarly  with  the  Xe- 
grito  races.  "  In  New  Caledonia  the  chiefs  and  influential 
men  wear  their  hair  long.  .  .  .  The  women  all  crop  theirs 
close  to  the  very  ears."  Cropped  heads  in  like  manner  dis- 
tinguish the  women  of  Tanna,  of  Lifu,  of  Vate,  and  those  of 
Tasmania."*  A  kindred  mode  of  signifying  filial 

subjection  has  existed.  Sacrifice  of  hair  once  formed  part 
of  the  ceremony  of  adoption  in  Europe.  "  Charles  Martel 
sent  Pepin,  his  son,  to  Luithprand,  king  of  the  Lombards, 
that  Ije  might  cut  his  first  locks,  and  by  this  ceremony  hold 
for  the  future  the  place  of  his  father;  "  and  Clovis,  to  make 
peace  with  Alaric,  proposed  to  become  his  adopted  son,  by 
offering  his  beard  to  be  cut  by  him. 

This  mutilation  simultaneously  came  to  imply  subjec- 
tion to  dead  persons.  How  yielding  up  hair  to  the  dead  is 
originally  akin  to  yielding  up  a  trophy,  is  well  shown  by  the 
Dacotahs.  "  The  men  shave  the  hair  off  their  heads,  extept 
a  small  tuft  on  the  top  [the  scalp-lock],  which  they  suffer 
to  grow  and  wear  in  plaits  over  the  shoulders:  the  loss  of 
it  is  the  usual  sacrifice  at  the  death  of  near  relations."  That 
is,  they  go  as  near  as  may  be  to  surrendering  their  scalps 
to  the  dead.  The  meaning  is  again  seen  in  the  account 
given  of  the  Caribs.     "  As  their  hair  thus  constituted  their 


64  CEREMONIAL   INSTITL'TIOXS. 

eliief  pvitlc,  it  was  an  unequivocal  proof  of  the  sincerity  of 
their  sorrow,  when,  on  the  death  of  a  relation  or  friend, 
they  cnt  it  short  like  their  slaves  and  captives."  Kverv- 
where  the  nncivilized  have  kindred  forms.  Xor  was  it 
otherwise  with  the  ancient  historic  races.  By  the  Hebrews 
making  "  baldness  npon  their  heads  "  was  practised  as  a 
fnneral  rite,  as  was  also  shavinji'  otl"  "  the  corner  of  their 
beard."  Amojiii,'  (ireeks  and  Komans,  '*  the  hair  was  cnt 
close  in  monrning."  In  Greece  the  meaning  of  this  mntila- 
tion  was  recognized.  Potter  remarks, — '"  we  find  Electra 
in  Enri})ides  finding  fault  with  Helena  for  sparing  her 
locks,  and  thereby  defrauding  the  dead;  "  and  he  cites  the 
statement  tliat  this  sacrifice  of  hair  (sometimes  laid  upon  the 
grave)  was  "  j^artly  to  render  the  ghost  of  the  deceased 
person  propitious."  A  significant  addition  must  be  made. 
"  For  a  recent  death,  the  mourner's  head  was  shaved;  for 
an  offering  to  the  long  dead,  a  single  lock  was  cut  off." 

Xaturally  if,  from  propitiation  of  the  dead,  some  of 
whom  become  deities,  there  grows  up  religious  propitiation, 
the  offering  of  hair  may  be  expected  to  re-appear  as  a  re- 
ligious ceremony;  and  we  find  that  it  does  so.  Already,  in 
the  just-named  fact  that  besides  the  hair  sacrificed  at  a 
Greek  funeral,  smaller  sacrifices  of  hair  Avere  made  lifter- 
wards,  we  see  the  rise  of  that  recurring  jn'opitiation  charac- 
terizing worship  of  a  deity.  And  when  we  further  read 
that  among  the  Greeks  ''  on  the  death  of  any  very  po])uLir 
personage,  as  a  general,  it  sometimes  ha])pened  that  all  the 
army  cut  off  their  hair,"  we  are  shown  a  step  towards  that 
propitiation  by  unrelated  members  of  the  community  at 
large,  which,  when  it  becomes  established,  is  a  trait  of  re- 
ligious worship.  ITence  certain  Greek  ceremonies.  "  The 
cutting  off  of  the  hair,  which  was  always  done  when  a  boy 
became  an  e(f>r}/3o<;,  was  a  solemn  act,  atttended  with  religious 
ceremonies  .  .  .  and  the  hair  after  being  cut  off  was 
dedicated  to  some  deity,  usually  a  river-god."  So,  too,  at 
the  first  shaving  among  the  Romans:   "  the  hair  cut  off  on 


MUTII.ATIONS.  65 

such  occasions  was  consecrated  to  some  god."  Sacrifice  of 
hair  was  an  act  of  worship  with  the  Hebrews  also.  We  are 
told  of  "  fourscore  men,  having  their  beards  shaven,  and 
their  clothes  rent,  and  having  cut  themselves,  with  offerings 
and  incense  in  their  hand,  to  bring  them  to  the  house  of  the 
Lord;  "  and  Krehl  gives  sundry  kindred  facts  concerning 
the  Arabians.  Curious  modifications  of  the  practice  oc- 
curred in  ancient  Peru.  Small  sacrifices  of  hair  were  con- 
tinual. "  Another  offering,"  writes  d'Acosta,  is  ''  pulling 
out  the  eye-lashes  or  eye-brows  and  presenting  them  to  the 
sun,  the  hills,  the  eombles,  the  winds,  or  whatever  they  are 
in  fear  of."  "  On  entering  the  temples,  or  when  they  were 
already  within  them,  they  put  their  hands  to.  their  eyebrows 
as  if  they  would  pull  out  the  hairs,  and  then  made  a  motion 
as  if  they  were  blowing  them  towards  the  idol;  "  a  good  in- 
stance of  the  abridgment  which  ceremonies  hal)itually  un- 
dergo. 

One  further  development  remains.  This  kind  of  sacri- 
fice becomes  in  some  casesa  social  propitiation.  AVreaths  of 
their  own  hair  plaited,  were  bestowed  upon  others  as  marks 
of  consideration  by  the  Tahitians.  In  France  in  the  fifth 
and  sixth  centuries,  it  was  usual  to  pluck  out  a  few  hairs 
from^the  beard  on  approaching  a  superior,  and  present 
them;  and  this  usage  was  occasionally  adopted  as  a  mark 
of  condescension  by  a  ruler,  as  when  Clovis,  gratified  by 
the  visit  of  the  Bishop  of  Toulouse,  gave  him  a  hair  from 
his  beard,  and  was  imitated  in  so  doing  by  his  followers. 
Afterwards  the  usage  had  its  meaning  obscured  by  abridg- 
ment. In  the  times  of  chivalry  one  mode  of  showing  re- 
spect was  to  tug  at  the  moustache. 

§  302.  Already,  wlien  treating  of  trophies,  and  when 
finding  that  those  of  the  })liallic  cdass,  major  and  minor,  had 
the  same  meanings  as  the  rest,  the  way  was  opened  to 
explain  the  mutilations  next  to  be  dealt  with.  We  have 
seen  that  when  the  vanquished  were  not  killed  but  enslaved, 


6(3  CEKEMOXIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

it  became  imperative  tliat  the  taking  of  trophies  from  them 
should  neither  endanger  Hfe  nor  be  highly  injurious;  and 
that  hence  instead  of  jaws,  teeth  were  taken;  instead  of 
hands,  fingers;  instead  of  scalps,  hair.  iSiniihirly  in  this 
case,  the  fatal  or  dangerous  mutilation  disappearing,  left 
only  such  allied  mutilation  as  did  not  seriously  or  at  all  de- 
crease the  value  of  the  enemy  as  a  servant. 

That  castration  was  initiated  by  troi)liy-taking  1  iind  no 
direct  proof;  but  there  is  direct  jiroof  that  i)risoners  are 
sometimes  treated  in  a  way  Nvhich  ti-ophy-taking  of  the 
implied  kind  would  entail.  The  ancient  Persians  used  to 
castrate  the  young  men  and  boys  of  their  vanijuished 
enemies.  Of  Theobald,  ^larquis  of  Spoleto,  we  read  in 
Gibbon  that  "his  captives  .  ,  .  were  castrated  without 
mercy."  For  thinking  that  there  was  once  an  enforced 
sacrifice  of  the  nature  indicated,  made  to  a  conqueror^  there 
is  the  further  reason  that  we  find  a  parallel  sacrifice  made  to 
a  deity.  At  the  annual  festivals  of  the  Phrygian  goddess 
Amma  [Agdistis],  "  it  was  the  custom  for  young  men  to 
make  themselves  eunuchs  with  a  sharp  shell,  crying  out  at 
the  same  time,  '  Take  this,  Agdistis.'  "  There  was  a  like 
practice  among  the  Phoenicians;  and  Brinton  names  a 
severe  self-mutilation  of  the  ancient  ^iexican  priests,  which 
seems  to  have  included  this.  Coming  in  the  way  shown  to 
imply  subordination,  this  usage,  like  many  ceremonial 
usages,  has  in  some  cases  survived  where  its  meaning  is 
lost.  The  Hottentots  enforce  semi-castration  at  about 
eight  or  nine  years  of  age;  and  a  kindred  custom  exists 
among  the  Australians. 

Xatnrally,  of  this  class  of  mutilations,  the  less  serious  is 
the  more  prevalent.  Circumcision  occurs  among  unallied 
races  in  all  parts  of  the  world — among  the  ]\Ialayo-Poly- 
nesians  in  Tahiti,  in  Tonga,  in  Madagascar;  among  the 
Xegritos  of  New  Caledonia  and  Fiji;  among  African 
peoples,  both  of  the  coast  and  the  interior,  from  northern 
Abyssinia  to  southern  Kaffirdand;  in  America,  among  some 


MUTILATIONS.  67 

Mexican  peoples,  the  Yucatanese,  and  the  people  of  San 
Salvador;  and  we  meet  with  it  again  in  Australia.  Even 
apart  from  the  fact  that  their  monuments  show  the 
Egyptians  practiced  it  from  early  times,  and  even  apart 
from  the  evidence  that  it  prevailed  among  Arab  peoples  at 
large,  these  proofs  that  circumcision  is  not  limited  to  region 
or  race,  sufficiently  dispose  of  the  current  theological 
interpretation.  They  sufficiently  dispose,  too,  of  another 
interpretation  not  uncommonly  given;  for  a  general  sur- 
vey of  the  facts  shows  us  that  while  the  usage  does  not  pre- 
vail among  the  most  cleanly  races  in  the  world,  it  is  common 
among  the  most  uncleanly  races.  Contrariwise,  the  facts 
taken  in  the  mass  are  congruous '  with  the  general  theory 
thus  far  verified. 

It  was  shown  that  among  the  Abyssinians  the  trophy 
taken  by  circumcision  from  an  enemy's  dead  body,  is 
presented  by  each  warrior  to  his  chief;  and  that  all  such 
trophies  taken  after  a  battle  are  eventually  presented 
to  the  king.  If  the  vanquished  enemies  instead  of  being 
killed  are  made  slaves;  and  if  the  warriors  who  have 
vanquished  them  continue  to  present  the  usual  proofs 
of  their  prowess;  there  must  arise  the  circumcision  of 
living  captives,  who  thereby  become  marked  as  subjugated 
persons.  A  further  result  is  obvious.  As  the  chief  and 
the  king  are  propitiated  by  bringing  them  these  trophies 
taken  from  their  foes;  and  as  the  primitive  belief  is  that  a 
dead  man's  ghost  is  })leased  by  whatever  pleased  the  man 
when  alive;  there  will  naturally  follow  a  presentation  of 
such  trophies  to  the  ghost  of  the  departed  ruler.  And  then 
in  a  highly  militant  society  governed  by  a  divinely- 
descended  despot,  who  requires  all  his  subjects  to  bear  this 
badge  of  servitude,  and  who,  dying,  has  his  dreaded  ghost 
anxiously  propitiated;  we  may  expect  that  the  presentation 
to  the  king  of  these  trophies  taken  from  enslaved  enemies, 
will  develop  into  the  offering  to  the  god  of  like  ti'ophies 
taken  from  each  generation  of  male  citizens  in  acknowledg- 


08  CEREMONIAL  IXSTITUTIOXS. 

ment  of  their  slavery  to  him.  Hence,  when  Movers  says 
tliat  among  the  Phoenicians  circumcision  was  "  a  sign  of 
consecration  to  Saturn,"  and  when  proof  is  given  that  of 
ohl  the  people  of  San  Salvador  circumcised  "  in  the  Jewish 
manner,  offering  the  blood  to  an  idol,"  we  are  shown  just 
the  result  to  be  anticipated  as  eventually  arising. 

That  this  interpretation  applies  to  the  custom  as  made 
known  in  the  Bible,  is  clear.  We  have  already  seen  that 
the  ancient  Hebrews,  like  the  modern  Abvssiuians,  ])rac- 
tised  the  form  of  trophy-taking  which  necessitates  this  mu- 
tilation of  the  dead  enemy;  and  as  in  the  one  case,  so  in  the 
other,  it  follows  that  the  vanquished  enemy  not  slain  but 
made  prisoner,  will  l)y  this  uiutihitiou  be  marked  as  a  subject 
person.  That  circunu-ision  was  among  the  Hebrews  the 
stamp  of  subjection,  all  the  evidence  proves.  On  learning 
that  among  existing  Bedouins,  the  only  conception  of  God 
is  that  of  a  powerful  living  nder,  the  sealing  by  circumcision 
of  the  covenant  between  (Jod  and  Abraham  b(^comes  a 
comprehensible  ceremony.  Iliere  is  furnished  an  explana- 
tion of  the  fact  that  in  consideration  of  a  territory  to  be  re- 
ceived, this  mutilation,  un(k>rgone  by  Abraham,  iniplied 
that  "  the  Lord  "  was  "  to  be  a  god  unto  "  him;  as  also  of 
the  fact  that  the  mark  was  to  be  borne  not  by  him  and  his 
descendants  only,  as  favoured  individuals,  but  also  by  slaves 
not  of  his  blood.  And  on  remembering  that  by  ])rimitive 
peoples  the  returning  double  of  the  dead  ])otentate  is 
believed  to  be  indistinguishable  from  the  living  potentate, 
we  get  an  interpretation  of  the  strange  tradition  concerning 
God's  anger  with  Moses  for  not  circumcising  his  son: — 
"  And  it  came  to  pass  by  the  way  in  the  inn,  that  the  Lord 
met  Moses,  and  sought  to"  kill  him.  Then  Zipporah  took  a 
sharj)  stone,  and  cut  off  the  foreskin  of  her  son,  and  cast  it 
at  his  feet."  There  are  further  proofs  that  circumcision 
among  the  Jews  was  a  mark  of  subordination  to  Jaliveh. 
Tender  the  foreign  ruler  Antiochus,  who  brought  in  foreign 
gods,  circumcision  was  forbidden;  and  those  who,  persever- 


MUTILATIONS.  69 

ing  in  it,  refused  obedience  to  these  foreign  gods,  were  slain. 
On  the  other  hand,  Mattathias  and  his  friends,  rebelling 
against  foreign  rule  and  worship,  are  said  to  have  gone 
"  round  about,  and  pulled  down  the  altars:  and  what  chil- 
dren soever  thej  found  within  the  coast  of  Israel  uncircum- 
cised,  those  they  circumcised  valiantly."  Moreover  Hyr- 
canus,  having  subdued  the  Idumeans,  made  them  submit 
to  circumcision;  and  Aristobulus  similarly  imposed  the 
mark  on  the  conquered  people  of  Iturea. 

Quite  congruous  are  certain  converse  facts.  Tooitonga 
(the  great  divine  chief  of  Tonga)  is  not  circumcised,  as  all 
the  other  men  are ;  being  unsubordinated,  he  does  not  bear 
the  badge  of  subordination.  And  mth  this  I  may  join  a 
case  in  which  whole  tribes  belonging  to  a. race  ordinarily 
practising  circumcision,  are  uncircumcised  where  they  are 
unsubordinated.  ]^aming  some  wild  Berbers  in  Morocco 
as  thus  distinguished,  Rohlfs  says,  "  these  uncircumcised 
tribes  inhabit  the  Rif  mountains.  .  .  .  All  the  Rif  moun- 
taineers eat  wild  boar,  in  spite  of  the  Koran  law." 

§  363.  Besides  mutilations  entailing  some  loss  of  flesh, 
bone,  skin,  or  hair,  there  are  mutilations  which  do  not 
imply  a  deduction;  at  least — not  a  permanent  one.  Of 
these  we  may  take  first,  one  which  sacrifices  a  liquid  part 
of  the  body  though  not  a  solid  part. 

Bleeding  as  a  mutilation  has  an  origin  akin  to  the  origins 
of  other  mutilations.  Did  we  not  find  that  some  uncivil- 
ized tribes,  as  the  Samoyedes,  drink  the  warm  blood  of 
animals — did  we  not  find  among  existing  cannibals,  such  as 
the  Fijians,  proofs  that  savages  drink  the  blood  of  still- 
living  human  victims ;  it  would'  seem  incredible  that  from 
taking  the  blood  of  a  vanquished  enemy  was  derived  the- 
ceremony  of  ofTcring  blood  to  a  ghost  and  to  a  god.  But 
when  to  accounts  of  horrors  like  these  we  join  accounts  of 
kindred  ones  which  savages  commit,  such  as  that  among 
the  Amaponda  Kaflirs  "  it  is  usual  for  the  ruling  chief,  on 
63 


70  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

his  accession  to  the  goveniinciit,  to  be  washed  in  the  blood 
of  a  near  relative,  generally  a  brother,  who  is  put  to  death 
on  the  occasion ;  "  and  when  we  infer  that  before  civilization 
arose  the  sanguinary  tastes  and  usages  now  excei)tional 
were  probably  general;  we  may  suspect  that  from  the 
drinking  of  blood  by  conquering  cannibals  there  arose  some 
kinds  of  blood-oft'erings — at  any  rate,  offerings  of  blood 
taken  from  immolated  victims.  Possibly  some  offerings  of 
blood  from  the  bodies  of  living  persons  are  to  be  thus  ac- 
counted for.  But  those  which  are  not,  are  explicable  as 
arising  from  the  practice  of  establishing  a  sacred  bond  be- 
tween living  persons  by  partaking  of  each  other's  blood:  the 
derived  conception  being  that  those  who  give  some  of  their 
blood  to  the  ghost  of  a  man  just  dead  and  lingering  near, 
effect  with  it  a  union  which  on  the  one  side  imj)lies  sub- 
.mission,  and  on  the  other  side  friendliness. 

On  this  h_v]K)thesis  we  have  a  reason  for  the  prevalence  of 
self-bleeding  as  a  funeral  rite,  not  among  existing  savages 
only,  but  among  ancient  and  partially-civilized  peoples — 
the  Jews,  the  Greeks,  the  Tluns,  the  Turks.  We  are 
shown  how  there  arise  kindred  rites  as  permanent  ])ro- 
pitiations  of  those  more  dreaded  ghosts  which  become  gods 
— such  offerings  of  blood,  now  from  their  own  bodies  and 
now  from  their  infants'  bodies,  as  those  which  the  Mexicans 
gave  their  idols;  such  offerings  as  were  implied  by  the 
self-gasliings  of  the  priests  of  Baal;  and  such  as  were 
sometinu's  made  even  in  propitiating  Jahveh,  as  by  the 
fourscore  men  who  came  from  Shechem,  Shiloh,  an<l 
Samaria.  j\Ioreover,  the  instances  of  blood-letting  as  a 
complimentary  act  in  social  intercourse,  become  explicable. 
During  a  Sanioan  marriage  ceremony  the  friends  of  the 
•bride,  to  testify  their  respect,  "  took  up  stones  and  beat 
themselves  until  their  heads  were  bruised  and  bleed- 
ing." "  Wlioii  tlie  Indians  of  Potonchan  (Central  Amer- 
ica) receive  new  friends  .  .  .  as  a  proof  of  friendship,  they, 
in  the  sight  of  the  friend,  draw  some  blood  .  .  .   from  the 


MUTILATIONS.  71 

tongiio,  hand,  or  arm,  dr  from  some  other  part."  And  ^Ir. 
W.  Foster,  Agent  General  for  Xew  South  Wales,  writes  to 
me  that  he  has  seen  an  Anstralian  mother  on  meeting  her 
son  after  an  interval  of  six  months,  gash  her  face  with  a 
pointed  stick  "  until  the  blood  streamed." 

§  364.  Cuts  leave  scars-.  If  the  blood-otferings  which 
entail  them  are  made  by  relatives  to  the  departed  spirit  of 
an  ordinary  person,  these  scars  are  not  likely  to  have  any 
permanent  significance;  but  if  they  ai*e  made  in  propitia- 
tion of  a  deceased  chief,  not  by  his  relatives  alone  but  by 
unrelated  members  of  the  tribe  who  stood  in  awe  of  him 
and  fear  his  ghost,  then,  like  other  mutilations,  they 
become  signs  of  sul)jection.  The  Iluns  who  "  at  the  burial 
of  Attihi,  cut  their  faces  with  hollow  wounds,"  in  common 
with  the  Turks  who  did  the  like  at  royal  funerals,  thus 
inflicted  on  themselves  marks  which  thereafter  distin- 
guished them  as  servants  of  their  respective  rulers.  So,  too, 
did  the  LacedaMiionians  who,  "  when  their  king  died,  had  a 
barbarous  custom  of  meeting  in  vast  nundjers,  where  men, 
women,  and  shn-es,  all  mixed  together,  tore  the  flesh  from 
their  foreheads  witli  ]>ins  and  needles  ...  to  gratify  the 
ghosts  of  the  dead."  Such  customs  are  likely  sometimes  to 
have  further  results.  With  the  apotheosis  of  a  notable 
king  whose  conquests  gave  him  the  cdiaracter  of  founder 
of  the  nation,  nuirks  of  this  kind,  borne  not  by  his  con- 
temporary followers  only  l)ut  imjiosed  by  them  on  their 
children,  may  become  national  marks. 

That  the  scars  caused  by  blood-lettings  at  funerals  are 
recognized  as  binding  to  the  dead  those  who  bear  them, 
and  do  develop  in  the  way  alleged,  we  have  good  evidence. 
The  connnand  in  Leviticus,  "  ye  shall  not  make  any  cuttings 
in  your  flesh  for  the  dead,  nor  print  any  marks  upon  you," 
shows  us  the  usage  in  that  stage  at  wdiicli  the  scar  left  by 
sacrifice  of  blood  is  still  a  sign  partly  of  family  subordination 
and  partly  of  other  subordination.     And  Scandinavian  tra- 


72  CEREMONIAL   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

(litions  show  us  a  stage  at  which  the  scar  betokens  allegiance 
cither  to  an  unspecilicd  supernatural  being,  or  to  a  deceased 
rrder  who  has  become  a  gcuL  Odin,  "  when  he  was  near  his 
death,  made  himself  be  innrked  with  the  point  of  a  spear;  " 
and  Xiort  "  before  he  died  made  himself  be  marked  for 
Odin  with  the  spear-point." 

It  is  probable  that  scars  on  the  surface  of  the  body,  thus 
coming  to  express  loyalty  to  a  deceased  father,  or  a  deceased 
ruler,  or  a  god  deri\-ed  from  him,  initiate  among  other  dis- 
iia,nrenients  those  we  class  as  tattooing.     J^acerations,  and 

M  ... 

the  traces  they  leave,  are  certain  to  take  diifercnt  lorms 

in    ditferent    ])laces.      The    Andaman    Islanders    "  tattoo 

by    incising    the    skin  .   .   .   without    inserting    colouring 

matter,   the  cicatrix  being  whitci-  tlum  the  sound   skin." 

Some  natives  of  Australia  have  ridges  raised  on  this  or  that 

]>art    of    the    body;   while    others    brand    themselves.      In 

Tanna  the  people  make  elevated  scars  on  their  arms  and 

chests.      And  Burton,  in  his  Aheol'uta,   says — "  the  skin 

patterns  were  of  every  variety,  from  tlu^  diminutive  ])ri('k  to 

the  great  gash  and  the  large  boil-like  lumps  ...  In  this 

country  every  tribe,  sub-tribe,  and  even  family,  has  its 

blazon,  whose  infinite  diversifications  may  be  compared 

with    the    lines    and    ordinaries    of    lMiro])ean    heraldry." 

Xaturally,  among  the  various  skin-nnitilations  originating 

in  the  way  alleged,  many  will,  under  the  ])roniptings  of 

vanity,  take  on  a  cliaracter  more  or  less  ornamental;   and 

the  use  of  them  for  decoration  will  often  survive  when  their 

meaning  has  been  lost. 

ITv])otliesis  aj^art,  we  have  proof  that  tliese  marks  are  in 

many  cases  tribal  marks;  as  they  would  of  course  become 

if  they  were  originally  made  when  men  bound  themselves 

by  blood  to  the  dead  founder  of  the  tribe.      Among  tli(^ 

Cuebas  of  Central  America,  "  if  the  son  of  a  chief  declined 

to  use  the  distinctive  badge  of  his  house,  he  could,  when  he 

became  chief,  choose  any  new  device  he  might  fancy;  "   but 

"  a  son  who  did  not  adopt  his  father's  totem  was  always 


MUTILATIONS.  73 

hateful  to  liiin."  And  if  refusal  to  adopt  the  family-mark 
where  it  is  painted  on  the  body,  is  thus  regarded  as  a  kind 
of  disloyalty,  ecpially  will  it  be  so  when  the  mark 'is  one 
that  has  arisen  from  modified  lacerations;  and  such  refusal 
will  be  tantamount  to  rebellion  where  the  mark  signifies 
descent  from,  and  submission  to,  some  great  father  of  the 
race.  Hence  such  facts  as  the  following: — ''  All  these  In- 
"  dians  "  says  Cieza  of  the  ancient  Peruvians,  "  wear  certain 
"  marks  by  which  they  are  known,  and  which  were  used 
by  "  their  ancestors."  "  Both  sexes  of  the  Sandwich  Isl- 
anders have  a  })articular  mark  (tattooed)  which  seems  to 
indicate  the  district  in  which,  or  the  chief  under  whom,  they 
lived."* 

That  a  special  form  of  tattooing  becomes  a  tribal  mark  in 
the  way  suggested,  we  have,  indeed,  some  direct  evidence. 
Among  the  Sandwich  Islanders,  funeral  rites  at  the  death 
of  a  chief,  such  as  knocking  out  teeth,  cutting  the  ears,  <fec., 
one  is  tattooing  a  spot  on  the  tongiie.  Here  we  see  this 
mutilation  becoming  a  sign  of  allegiance  to  a  ruler  who 
has  died;  and  then,  when  the  deceased  ruler,  unusually 
distinguished,  is  apotheosized,  the  tattoo  mark  becomes  the 
sign  of  obedience  to  him  as  a  deity.  "  AVith  several 
Eastern  nations,"  says  Grimm,  "  it  was  a  custom  to  mark 
oneself  by  a  burnt  or  incised  sign  as  adherent  to  a  certain 
worship."  It  was  thus  with  the  Hebrews.  Remembering 
that  they  were  forbidden  to  mark  themselves  for  the  dead, 
we  shall  see  the  meaning  of  the  passage  in  Deuteronomy — ■ 
"  They  have  corrupted  themselves,  the  spot  is  not  the  spot 
of  his  children:  they  are  a  perverse  and  crooked  genera- 
tion."    And  that  such  contrasted  spots  were  understood  in 

*  While  this  chapter  is  standing  in  type,  I  have  come  upon  a  passage  in 
Bancroft,  concerning  the  Indians  of  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  fully  verifying  the 
general  interpretation  given.  He  says : — "  Every  principal  man  retained  a 
number  of  prisoners  as  bondsmen ;  they  .  .  .  were  branded  or  tattooed  with 
the  particular  mark  of  the  owner  on  the  face  or  arm,  or  had  one  of  their  front 
teeth  extracted." 


74  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

later  times  to  imply  the  service  of  different  deities,  is  sug- 
gestetl  l)\"  passages  in  Kevelations,  where  an  angel  is  de- 
scribed as  ordering  delay  *'  till  we  have  sealed  the  servants 
of  our  (Jod  in  their  foreheads,"  and  where  "  an  hnn<lred  and 
forty  and  four  thousand,  having  his  Father's  name  written 
in  their  foreheads,"  are  described  as  standing  on  ]\Iount  Sion 
while  an  angel  proclaims  that,  ""  If  any  man  worshij)  the 
beast  and  his  image,  and  recc;ive  his  mark  in  his  forehead,  or 
in  his  hand,  the  same  shall  drink  of  the  wine  of  the  wrath  of 
God."  Even  now  ''  this  })ractice  of  marking  religious  to- 
kens upon  the  hands  and  arms  is  almost  universal  among  the 
Arabs,  of  all  sects  and  classes."  Aloreover  ''  Christians  in 
some  parts  of  the  East,  and  Euroj)ean  sailors,  were  long  in 
the  habit  of  marking,  by  means  of  ])unctures  and  a  black 
dye,  their  arms  and  other  members  of  the  body  with  the  sign 
of  the  erucitix,  or  the  image  of  the  Virgin ;  the  Mahomme- 
dans  mark  them  with  the  name  of  Allah."  So  that  among 
advanced  races,  these  skin-mutilations  still  have  meanings 
like  those  given  to  them  in  ancient  Mexico,  where,  when  a 
child  was  dedicated  to  (^uetzalcohuatl  "  the  ]u-iest  made  a 
slight  cut  with  a  knife  on  its  breast,  as  a  sign  that  it  belonged 
to  the  cult  and  service  of  the  god,"  and  like  those  now  given 
to  them  in  jiarts  of  Angola,  where  a  child  as  soon  as  born  is 
tattooed  on  the  belly,  in  order  thereby  to  dedicate  it  to  a  cer- 
tain fetich. 

A  significant  grou])  of  evidences  remains.  We  have 
seen  that  where  cropped  hair  imi)lies  servitude,  long  hair  he- 
comes  an  honourable  distinction;  and  that,  occasionally, 
in  opposition  to  circumcision  as  associated  with  subjection, 
there  is  absence  of  it  along  with  the  highest  })ower.  Here 
we  have  a  parallel  antithesis.  The  great  divine  chief  of  the 
Tongans  is  unlike  all  other  men  in  Tonga,  not  only  as  being 
uncircumcised,  but  also  as  being  nntattooed.  Elsewhere 
whole  classes  are  thus  distingiiished.  Not,  however, 

that  such  distinctions  are  at  all  regular:  we  here  meet  with 
anomalies      Though  in  some  ])1aces  showing  socinl  inferior- 


MUTILATIOXS.  75 

itj,  tattooing  in  other  places  is  a  trait  of  the  superior.  But 
the  occurrence  of  anomalies  is  not  surprising.  During  the 
perpetual  overrunuings  of  race  by  race,  it  must  sometimes 
have  happened  that  an  untattooed  race  having  been  con- 
quered by  one  which  practised  tattooing,  the  presence  of 
these  markings  became  associated  with  social  supremacy. 

A  further  cause  exists  for  this  conflict  of  meanings. 
There  remains  to  be  named  a  species  of  skin-mutilation 
having  another  origin  and  different  implication. 

§  365.  Besides  scars  resulting  from  lacerations  made  in 
propitiating  dead  relatives,  dead  chiefs,  and  deities,  there 
are  scars  resulting  from  wounds  received  in  battle.  All  the 
world  over,  these  are  held  in  honour  and  displayed  \\dth 
pride.  The  sentiment  associated  with  them  among  our- 
selves in  past  times,  is  indicated  in  Shakespeare  by  sundry 
references  to  "  such  as  boasting  shew  their  scars."  Lafeii 
says — "  a  scar  nobly  got,  or  a  noble  scar,  is  a  good  livery  of 
honour;  "  and  Henry  V..  foretells  of  an  old  soldier  that 
'  then  will  he  strip  his  sleeve  and  shew  his  scars." 

Animated  as  are  savages  in  still  higher  degrees  than 
civilized  by  the  feelings  thus  indicated,  wdiat  may  be 
expected  to  residt^  AVill  not  anxiety  to  get  honour  some- 
times lead  to  the  making  of  scars  artificially!-  We  have 
evidence  that  it  does.  A  Bechuana  ])riest  makes  a  long  cut 
in  the  skin  from  the  thigh  to  the  knee  of  each  warrior  who 
has  slain  a  man  in  battle.  The  Bachapin  Kaffirs  have  a 
kindred  usage.  Among  the  Damaras,  "  for  every  wild' 
animal  that  a  young  man  destroys,  his  father  makes  four 
small  incisions  on  the  front  of  the  son's  body  as  marks  of 
honour  and  distincticm."  And  then  Tiu-key,  speaking  of 
certain  Congo  ]ieople  who  make  scars,  says  that  this  is 
"  principally  done  with  the  idea  of  rendering  themselves 
agreeable  to  the  women:  "  a  motive  which  is  intelligible  if 
such  scars  originally  passed  for  scars  got  in  war,  and  imply- 
ing bravery.     Again,  we  read  that  '^  the  Itzaex  Indians  [iu 


76  CERExMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Yucatan]  have  handsome  faces,  tliouiih  sonio  of  thoni  woro 
niavkod  with  lilies  as  a  sig'n  of  courage."  Facts 

furnished  by  other  Auiericau  tribes,  suggest  that  tlie  intlic- 
tion  of  torture  on  reaching  uiaturity,  originated  from  the 
liabit  of  uuiking  scars  artificially  in  imitation  of  scaiS  be- 
queathed by  battle.  If  self-injury  to  avoid  service  in  war 
has  been  not  infreciuent  among  the  cowardly,  we  may  infer 
that  among  the  courageous  who  had  received  no  wounds, 
self-injury  might  be  not  infretiuent,  where  there  was  gained 
by  it  that  character  desired  above  everything.  The  reputa- 
tion achieved  might  nuike  the  ])ractice,  at  first  secret  and  (ex- 
ceptional, gradually  more  connnon  and  at  length  general; 
until,  finally,  public  opinion,  vented  against  those  who  did 
not  follow  it,  made  the  usage  peremptory.  And  on  reading 
that  among  the  Abipones,  "  boys  of  seven  years  old  pierce 
their  iittle  arms  in  imitation  of  their  parents,  and  display 
plenty  of  wounds,"  we  are  shown  the  rise  of  a  feeling,  and  a 
consequent  practice,  which,  growing,  may  end  in  a  system 
of  initiatory  tortures  at  manhood.  Though  when  the  scars, 
being  borne  by  all,  are  no  longer  distinctive,  discipline  in 
endurance  comes  to  be  the  reason  given  for  inflicting  them, 
this  cannot  have  been  the  original  reason.  Primitive  men, 
improvident  in  all  ways,  never  devised  and  instituted  a 
usage  with  a  view  to  a  foreseen  distant  benefit :  they  do  not 
make  laws,  they  fall  into  customs. 

Here,  then,  we  find  an  additional  reason  why  markings 
on  the  skin,  though  generally  badges  of  subordination,  be- 
come in  some  cases  honourable  distinctions  and  occasionally 
signs  of  rank. 

§  366.  Something  nuist  be  added  concerning  a  second- 
ary motive  for  mutilating  prisoners  and  slaves,  parallel  to, 
or  sequent  upon,  a  secondary  motive  for  taking  trophies. 

In  the  last  chapter  we  inferred  that,  ])rompted  by  his 
belief  that  the  spirit  pervades  the  corpse,  the  savage  pre- 
serves relics  of  dead  enemies  partly  in  the  expectation  that 


MUTILATIONS.  'J'Y 

lie  will  be  enabled  thereby  to  coerce  tlieir  ghosts — if  not 
himself,  still  by  the  help  of  the  medicine-man.  He  has  a 
])arallel  reason  for  preserving  a  part  cut  from  one  whom  he 
has  enslaved:  both  he  and  the  slave  think  that  he  so  obtains 
a  power  to  inflict  injury.  Remembering  that  the  sorcerer's 
first  step  is  to  procure  some  hair  or  nail-parings  of  his 
victim,  or  else  some  piece  of  his  dress  pervaded  by  that 
odour  which  is  identified  with  his  spirit;  it  appears  to  be 
a  necessary  corollary  that  the  master  who  keeps  by  him  a 
slave's  tooth,  a  joint  from  his  little  finger,  or  even  a  lock  of 
his  hair,  thereby  retains  a  power  of  delivering  him  over  to 
the  sorcerer,  who  may  bring  on  him  one  or  other  fearful 
evil — torture  by  demons,  disease,  death. 

The  subjugated  man  is  consequently  made  obedient  by 
a  dread  akin  to  that  which  Caliban  expresses  of  Prospero's 
magically-inflicted  torments. 

§  3G7.  The  evidence  that  mutilation  of  the  living  has 
1  )een  a  sequence  of  trophy-taking,  from  the  slain,  is  thus 
abundant  and  varied.  Taking  the  trophy  implies  victory 
carried  to  the  death;  and  the  derived  practice  of  cutting 
off  a  part  from  a  prisoner  implies  subjugation  of  him. 
Eventually  the  voluntary  surrender  of  such  a  part  expresses 
submission;  and  becomes  a  propitiatory  ceremony  because 
it  does  this. 

Hands  are  cut  off  from  decid  enemies;  and,  answering 
to  this,  besides  some  identical  mutilations  of  criminals,  we 
have  the  cutting  off  of  fingers  or  portions  of  fingers,  to 
jmcify  living  chiefs,  deceased  ])ersons,  and  gods.  Xoses  are 
among  the  trophies  taken  from  slain  foes;  and  we  have  loss 
of  noses  inflicted  on  captives,  on  slaves,  on  transgressors  of 
certain  kinds.  Ears  are  brought  back  from  the  battle-field; 
and  occasionally  they  are  cut  off  from  prisoners,  felons, 
or  slaves;  while  there  are  peoples  among  whom  pierced 
ears  mark  the  servant  or  the  subject.  Jaws  and  teeth, 
too,  are  trophies;  and  teeth,  in  some  cases  knocked  out  in 


78  CEREMONIAL  IXSTITUTIOXS. 

propitiation  of  a  dead  chief,  arc,  in  various  other  cases, 
knocked  ont  -by  a  priest  as  a  (piasi-rcligions  ceremony. 
Scal})s  arc  taken  from  killed  enemies,  and  sometimes  their 
hair  is  used  to  decorate  a  victor's  dress;  and  then  conio 
various  scipicnccs.  Here  the  enslaved  have  their  heads 
cro]>])cd;  here  scal])-locks  are  worn  subject  to  a  chief's 
owucrsliij),  and  oci-iisioually  dci'iiandcd  in  sign  of  submis- 
sion; while,  elsewhere,  men  sacrifice  their  beards  to  their 
rulers:  unsliorn  hair  being  thus  rendered  a  mark  of 
rank.  Among  luimcrous  peoi)Ies,  hair  is  sacrificed  to 
pro])ifiate  the  ghosts  of  relatives;  whole  tribes  cut  it  off  on 
the  deaths  of  tiieir  chiefs  or  kings;  and  it  is  yielded  up  to 
express  subjeetiou  to  deities.  Oceasionally  if  is  offered  to 
a  living  sui)erioi'  in  token  of  rcs])ecf ;  and  this  coni[)limen- 
tary  offering  is  extended  to  others.  Similarly  with  genital 
mutilations:  there  is  a  like  taking  of  certain  \)ixr\s 
from  slain  enemies  and  from  living  i)risoners;  and  thcr(»  is 
a  presentation  of  them  to  kings  and  to  gods.  Self-bleeding, 
initiated  partly,  perhaps,  by  cannibalism,  but  more  exten- 
sively by  the  mutual  giving  of  blood  in  jtletlge  of  loyalty, 
enters  into  several  ceremonies  expressing  subordination: 
we  find  if  oecurring  in  propitiation  of  ghosts  and  of  gods, 
and  occasionally  as  a  comj^liment  to  living  persons.  Xatu- 
rally  it  is  the  same  with  the  resulting  marks.  Originally 
indefinite  in  foi-m  and  place  but  rendered  definite  by 
custom,  and  at  length  often  decorative,  these  healed 
wounds,  at  first  entailed  only  on  relatives  of  deceased  })er- 
sons,  then  on  all  of  the  followers  of  a  man  much  feared  while 
nlive,  so  become  marks  ex])ressive  of  sul)j(>ction  to  a  dead 
ruler,  and  eventually  to  a  god:  growing  thus  into  tribal 
and  national  marks. 

Tf,  as  we  have  seen,  trophy-taking  as  a  serpience  of  con- 
quest enters  as  a  factor  into  those  governmental  restraints 
which  conquest  initiates,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  the  mutila- 
tions originated  by  tro])hy-taking  will  do  the  like.  The 
evidence  justifies  this  inference.     Beginning  as  marks  of 


MUTILATIONS.  79 

personal  slavery  and  becoming-  marks  of  political  and 
religions  snbordination,  they  play  a  part  like  that  of 
oaths  of  fealty  and  pious  self-dedications.  Moreover,  being 
acknowledgments  of  submission  to  a  ruler,  visible  or  in- 
visible, they  enforce  authority  by  making  conspicuous  the 
extent  of  his  sway.  And  where  they  signify  class-subjec- 
tion, as  well  as  where  they  show  the  subjugation  of  crimi- 
nals, they  further  strengthen  the  regulative  agency. 

If  mutilations  originate  as  alleged,  some  connexion 
must  exist  between  the  extent  to  which  they  are  carried  and 
tlie  social  type.  On  grouping  the  facts  as  presented  by 
fifty-two  peoples,  the  connexion  emerges  with  as  much 
clearness  as  can  l)e  expected.  In 'the  first  place,  since 

mutilation  originates  with  conquest  and  resulting  aggre- 
gation, it  is  inferable  that  simple  societies,  however  savage, 
will  be  less  characterized  by  it  than  the  larger  savage  socie- 
ties compounded  out  of  such,  and  less  than  even  semi-civil- 
ized societies.  This  proves  to  be  true.  Of  peoples  who 
form  simple  societies  that  practice  mutilation  either  not  at 
all  or  in  slight  forms,  I  find  eleven — Fuegians,  Veddahs, 
Andamanese,  Dyaks,  Todas,  Gonds,  Santals,  Bodo  and 
Dhimals,  Mishmis,  Kamstchadales,  Snake  Indians;  and 
these  are  characterized  throughout  either  by  absence  of 
chieftainship,  or  by  chieftainship  of  an  imsettled  kind. 
Meanwhile,  of  peoples  who  mutilate  little  or  not  at  all,  I 
find  but  two  in  the  chiss  of  uncivilized  couipound  societies; 
of  which  one,  the  Kirghiz,  is  characterized  by  a  wandering 
life  that  makes  subordination  difficult;  and  the  oth(M-,  the 
Iro(piois,  had  a  rc])ublican  form  of  government.  Of  socie- 
ties practising  mutilations  that  are  modm-ate,  tlu^  sim])le 
bear  a  decreased  ratio  to  the  compound:  of  the  one  cdass 
there  are  ten — Tasmanians,  Tannese,  Xew  Guinea  {)eo])le, 
Karens,  Nagas,  Ostyaks,  Esquimaux,  Chinooks,  Comanches, 
C^hippewayans ;  while  of  the  other  class  there  are  five — Xew 
Zealanders,  East  Africans,  Khonds,  Kukis,  Kalmucks. 
And  of  these  it  is  to  be  remarked,  that  in  the  one  class  the 


80  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

piiiiplo  licadslii]),  and  in  the  otlior  class  tlie  compound  head- 
ship, is  unstable.  On  coniinc;  to  the  societies  distinguished 
bv  severer  nuitilations,  we  tind  these  relations  reversed. 
Among  the  simple  I  can  name  but  three — the  New  Cale- 
donians (among  whom,  however,  the  severer  mutilation  is 
not  general),  the  Jhishmen  (who  arc  believed  to  have  lapsed 
from  a  higher  social  state),  and  the  Australians  (who  have, 
I  believe,  similarly  laj^sed);  while,  among  the  compound, 
twenty-one  nuiy  be  named — Fijians,  Sandwich  Islanders, 
Tahitians,  Tongans,  Sauu>ans,  Javaus,  Sumatrans,  Mala- 
gasy, Hottentots,  Danuiras,  Bechuanas,  Kaffirs,  (\mgo  ])eo- 
ple.  Coast  Xegroes,  Inland  Xegroes,  Dahomans,  Ashantees, 
Fulahs,    Abyssiniahs,    Arabs,    Dacotahs.  In   the 

second  place,  social  consolidation  being  habitually  effected 
by  conquest,  and  compound  and  doubly-compound  societies 
being  therefore,  during  early  stages,  militant  in  their  activi- 
ties and  types  of  structure,  it  follows  that  the  connexion 
of  the  custom  of  mutilation  with  the  size  of  the  society  is 
indirect,  while  that  with  its  t}^e  is  di^*ect.  And  this  the 
facts  show  us.  If  we  put  side. by  side  those  societies  which 
are  most  unlike  in  respect  of  the  practice  of  mutilation,  we 
find  them  to  be  those  which  are  most  unlike  as  being  wholly 
unmilitant  in  organization,  and  wholly  militant  in  organiza- 
tion. At  the  one  extreme  we  have  the  Veddas,  Todas, 
Bodo  and  Dhimals;  while,  at  the  other  extreme,  w^e  have 
the  Fijians,  Abyssinians,  and  ancient  Mexicans. 

Derived  from  trophy-taking,  and  develoj)ing  with  the 
development  of  the  militant  type,  mutilations  nuist,  by 
implication,  decrease  as  fast  as  the  societies  consolidated  by 
militancy  become  less  militant,  and  must  disappear  as  the 
industrial  type  of  structure  evolves.  That  they  do  so, 
European  history  at  large  may  be  assigned  in  proof.  And 
it  is  significant  that  in  our  own  society,  now  predominant- 
ly industrial,  such  slight  mutilations  as  continue  are  con- 
nected with  that  regnilative  part  of  the  organization  which 
militancy  has  bequeathed:  there  survive  only  the  now- 


MUTILATIONS.  81 

meaningless  tattooings  of  sailors,  the  branding  of  deserters 
(until  recently),  and  the  cropping  of  the  heads  of  felons. 

NOTE   TO   CHAPTER  III. 

At  the  Royal  Institution,  in  April,  1883,  Dr.  E.  B.  Tylor  deliv- 
ered a  lecture  on  "The  Study  of  Customs  "  (afterwards  published  in 
MacmiUaii's  Magazine  for  May,  1882),  which  was  primarily  an  attack 
on  this  work. 

One  of  the  objections  he  made  concerns  the  interpretation  of  scars 
and  tatooings  as  having  originated  in  offerings  of  blood  to  tlie  dead; 
and  as  becoming,  by  consequence,  marks  of  subordination  to  them, 
and  afterwards  of  other  subordination.     He  says : — 

"Now  the  question  here  is  not  to  determine  whether  all  this  is  imaginable 
or  possible,  but  what  the  evidence  is  of  its  having  actually  happened.  The 
Levitical  law  is  quoted,  '  Ye  shall  not  make  any  cuttings  in  your  flesh  for  the 
dead,  nor  piiut  any  marks  upon  you.'  This  Mr.  Spencer  takes  as  good  evidence 
that  the  cutting  of  the  flesh  at  the  funeral  develops  into  a  mark  of  subjection." 

But  Dr.  Tylor  ignores  the  fact  that  I  have  referred  to  the  Huns, 
the  Turks,  the  Lacedaemonians,  as  following  customs  such  as  Leviti- 
cus interdicts  (besides  eight  cases  of  like  lacerations,  leaving  marks, 
in  §  89).  Nor  does  he  hint  that  there  are  uncited  cases  of  like  mean-' 
ing:  instance  the  ancient  Scythians,  among  whom,  according  to  He- 
rodotus (iv.  71),  each  man  in  presence  of  a  king's  corpse,  "  makes  a 
cut  all  round  his  arm,  lacerates  his  forehead  and  his  nose,  and 
thrusts  an  arrow  through  his  left  hand;"  or  instance  some  modern 
Australians,  who,  says  Grey,  on  the  authority  of  Bussel,  "placed  the 
corpse  beside  the  grave  and  gashed  their  thighs,  and  at  the  flowing 
of  the  blood  they  all  said — 'J  have  brought  blood  '  "  (p.  332).  Not 
only  does  Dr.  Tylor  lead  readers  to  suppose  that  the  evidence  I  have 
taken  from  Leviticus  is  unsupported  by  like  evidence  elsewhere  de- 
rived, but  he  passes  over  the  fact  that  this  form  of  bodily  mutilation 
is  associated  by  me  with  other  forms,  similarly  originating  and  having 
similar  sequences.  He  omits  to  say  that  I  have  named  four  peoples 
among  whom  amputated  fingers  are  offered  in  propitiation  of  the 
dead ;  two  among  whom  they  are  given  in  jn-opitiation  of  a  god ;  and 
one — the  ferocious  Fijians — among  whom  living  persons  also  are  pro- 
pitiated by  sacrificed  fingers;  and  that  I  have  joined  this  last  with 
the  usage  of  the  Canaanites,  among  whom  amjautated  tlmnibs  and 
toes  marjced  conquered  men,  and  lience  became'  signs  of  subordina- 
tion. He  did  not  tell  his  hearers  that,  as  mutilations  entailed  by 
trophy-taking,  I  have  named  the  losses  of  hands,  feet,  parts  of  the 
ears  and  nose,  and  parts  of  the  genital  organs;  and  have  sliown  that 
habitually,  the  resulting  marks  have  come  to  signify  subjection  to 
powerful  persons,  living  or  dead.  Concerning  all  this  direct  and  in- 
direct support  of  my  inference  he  is  silent ;  and  lie  thus  produces  the 
suj)pression  that  it  is  almost  baseless.  Moreover,  in  contesting  the 
conclusion  that  tatooing  was  derived  from  lacerations  at  funerals,  he 
leaves  it  to  be  supposed  that  this  is  a  mere  guess:  saying  notliing  of 
my  quotation  from  Burton  to  the  effect  that  these  skin-mutilations 


82  CERE:\rONTAL  INSTTTrTIOXS. 

show  all  gradations  from  lar<j:e  ga.slu's  to  diminutive  pricks,  and  say- 
ing nothing  of  the  instanci's  1  have  given  in  wliich  a  tatoo-mark  sig- 
uities  subjection  to  a  ruler,  human  or  divine.  And  then,  after  assert- 
ing that  of  "cogent  proof  tliere  is  simply  none,"  he  inadvertently 
furnishes  a  proof  of  considerable  cogency — the  fact  that  by  lines  of 
tatooiug  joined  to  it,  the  I)  branded  on  deserters  was  often  changed 
by  them  into  the  handle  of  a  sword:  a  decorative  skin-mark  was  de- 
rived from  a  skin  mark  that  was  not  decorative. 

^ly  inference  tliat  the  cropping  of  the  hair  of  felons  is  a  survival, 
is  sujiported  by  more  evidence  than  that  given  in  tlie  te.xt.  Dr.  Tylor, 
however,  prefers  to  regard  it  as  an  entirely  modern  regulation  to  in- 
sure cleanliness:  ignoring  the  truth,  illustrated  by  himself,  tiiat  usages 
often  survive  after  their  original  purpose  has  been  forgotten,  and  are 
then  misinteri)reted. 

Tlie  remaining  three  errors  alleged  (which  are  all  incidental,  and, 
if  substantiated,  would  leave  the  main  propositions  unshaken)  con- 
cern chapters  tliat  follow.  One  only  of  them  is,  I  think,  estab- 
lished. Good  reason  is  given  for  dissenting  from  my  interpretation 
of  the  colours  used  in  different  countries  for  mourning  (an  inter- 
pretation not  embodied  in  the  argument  of  Chapter  VI,  but  merely 
appended  as  a  note,  which,  in  this  edition,  I  have  changed).  The 
other  two,  concerning  the  wearing  of  two  swords  by  upper-class  Jap- 
anese, and  the  origin  of  shaking  hands,  I  leave  standing  as  they  did; 
partly  because  I  see  further  reasons  for  thinking  them  true,  and  part- 
ly because  Dr.  Tylor's  explanations  fail  to  account  for  the  origin  of  the 
one  as  a  mark  of  rank,  and  of  the  other  as  a  mark  of  friendship. 

Dr.  Tylor's  avowed  purpose  is  to  show  that  my  method  "vitiates 
the  whole  argument:  "  liaving  previously  asserted  that  my  metliod  is 
to  extract  "from  laws  of  nature  the  reasons  how  and  why  men  do  all 
things."  It  is  amusing  to  place  by  the  side  of  this  the  assertion  of 
The  Times'  reviewer  (March  llth,  1880),  who  says  that  my  method  is 
"to  state  the  facts  as  sim])ly  as  possible,  with  just  a  word  or  two  on 
their  nuitual  bearings  and  tlieir  ])lace  in  his  (my]  '  sy.stem  ; ' "  and 
who  hints  that  I  iiave  n(>t  sufficiently  connected  tlie  facts  witli  "  prin- 
ciples "  !  The  one  says  I  proceed  exclusively  by  deduction;  the  other 
says  that  I  proceed  almost  exclusively  by  induction  !  Hut  the  reader 
needs  not  depend  on  authority:  the  evidence  is  before  him.  In  it  he 
will,  I  think,  fail  to  recognize  the  truth  of  Dr.  Tylor's  .statement; 
and,  having  tiuis  tested  one  of  his  statements,  will  see  that  others  of 
his  statements  are  not  to  l)e  taken  as  valid  simply  because  I  do  not 
occupy  time  and  spac^e  in  contesting  them. 


CHAPTER  ly. 


PRESENTS. 


§  368.  Travellers,  coming  in  contact  Avitli  strange  peo- 
ples, habitually  propitiate  them  by  gifts.  Two  results  are 
achieved.  Gratification  caused  by  the  worth  of  the  thing 
given,  tends  to  beget  a  friendly  mood  in  the  person  ap- 
proached; and  there  is  a  tacit  expression  of  the  donor's  de- 
sire to  please,  which  has  a  like  effect.  It  is  from  the  last  of 
these  that  gift-making  as  a  ceremony  proceeds. 

The  alliance  between  mutilations  and  presents- — be- 
tween offering  a  part  of  the  body  and  oif ering  something  else 
— is  well  shown  by  a  statement  respecting  the  ancient  Peru- 
vians; which  also  shows  how  present-making  becomes  a 
propitiatory  act,  apart  from  the  value  of  the  thing  presented. 
Describing  people  who  carry  burdens  over  the  high  passes, 
Garcilasso  says  they  uidoad  themselves  on  the  top,  and  then 
severally  say  to  the  god  Pachacamae, — 

"  <I  give  thanks  that  this  has  been  carried,'  and  in  making  an 
offering  they  pulled  a  hair  out  of  their  eyebrows,  or  took  the  herb 
called  CHCd  from  their  mouths,  as  a  gift  of  the  most  precious  things 
they  had.  Or  if  there  was  nothing  better,  they  offered  a  small  stick 
or  piece  of  straw,  or  even  a  piece  of  stone  or  earth.  There  were 
great  heaps  of  these  offerings  at  the  summits  of  passes  over  the 
mountains." 

Though,  coming  in  this  unfamiliar  form,  these  offerings  of 
parts  of  themselves,  or  of  things  they  prized,  or  of  worthless 
things,  seems  strange,  they  will  seem  less  strange  on  remem- 
bering that  at  the  foot  of  a  wayside  crucifix  in  France,  may 

83 


84  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

any  day  be  seen  a  heap  of  small  crosses,  severally  made  of 
two  bits  of  lath  nailed  together.  Intrinsically  of  no  more 
value  than  these  straws,  sticks,  and  stones  the  Peruvians 
offered,  they  similarly  force  on  our  attention  the  truth  that 
the  act  of  presentation  passes  into  a  ceremony  expressing 
the  wish  to  conciliate.  IIow  natural  is  this  substitution  of 
a  nominal  giving  for  a  real  giving,  where  a  real  giving  is 
impracticable,  we  are  shown  even  by  intelligent  animals.  A 
retriever,  accustomed  to  please  his  master  by  fetching  killed 
birds,  ttc,  will  fall  into  the  habit  at  other  times  of  fetching 
things  to  show  his  desire  to  please.  On  first  seeing  in  the 
morning  some  one  he  is  friendly  with,  he  will  add  to  his 
demonstratioins  of  joy,  the  seeking  and  bringing  in  his 
mouth  a  dead  'leaf,  a  twig,  or  any  small  available  object 
lying  near.  And,  while  serving  to  show  the  natural  genesis 
of  this  propitiatory  ceremony,  his  behaviour  serves  also  to 
show  how^  deep  down  there  begins  the  process  of  symboliza- 
tion;  and  how,  at  the  outset,  the  symbolic  act  is  as  near  a 
repetition  of  the  act  symbolized  as  circumstances  allow. 
Prepared  as  we  thus  are  to  trace  the  development  of 
gift-making  into  a  ceremony,  let  us  now  observe  its  several 
varieties,  and  the  social  arrangements  eventually  derived 
from  them. 

§  369.  In  headless  tribes,  and  in  tribes  of  which  the 
headship  is  unsettled,  and  in  tribes  of  which  the  headship 
though  settled  is  feeble,  making  i)resents  does  not  become 
an  established  usage.  Australians,  Tasmanians,  Fuegians 
are  instances;  and  on  reading  through  accounts  of  wild 
American  races  that  are  little  organized,  like  the  Esqui- 
maux, Chinooks,  Snakes,  Comanches,  Chippewas,  or  arc 
organized  in  a  democratic  manner,  like  the  Iroquois  and 
the  Creeks,  we  find,  along  with  absence  of  strong  personal 
rule,  scarcely  any  mention  of  gift-making  as  a  political  ob- 
servance. 

In  apt  contrast  come  accounts  of  usages -among  those 


PRESENTS.  85 

American  races  which  in  past  times  reached,  under  despotic 
governments,  considerable  degi'ees  of  civilization.  Torque- 
mada  writes  that  in  Mexico,  "  when  any  one  goes  to  salute 
the  lord  or  king,  he  takes  with  him  flowers  and  gifts."  Of 
the  Chibchas  we  read  that  "  when  they  brought  a  present 
in  order  to  negotiate  or  speak  with  the  cazique  (for  no  one 
went  to  visit  him  without  bringing  a  gift),  they  entered 
with  the  head  and  body  bent  downwards."  Among  the 
Yucatanese,  "  when  there  was  hunting  or  fishing  or  salt- 
carrying,  they  always  gave  a  part  to  the  lord."  Peoples  of 
other  types,  as  the  Malayo-Polynesians,  living  in  kindred 
stages  of  social  progress  under  the  undisputed  sway  of 
chiefs,  exemplify  this  same  custom.  Speaking  of  things 
bartered  to  the  Tahitian  populace  for  food,  native  cloth,  (fee, 
Forster  says — "  However,  we  found  that  after  some  time  all 
this  acquired  wealth  flowed  as  presents,  or  voluntary  ac- 
knowledgments, into  the  treasure  of  the  various  chiefs."  In 
Fiji,  again,  "  whoever  asks  a  favour  of  a  chief,  or  seeks  civil 
intercourse  with  him,  is  expected  to  bring  a  present." 

These  last  cases  show  us  how  making  presents  passes 
from  a  voluntary  propitiation  into  a  compulsory  propitia- 
tion; for  on  reading  that  "  the  Tahitian  chiefs  plundered  the 
plantations  of  their  subjects  at  will,"  and  that  in  Fiji, 
''  chiefs  take  the  property  and  persons  of  others  by  force;  " 
it  becomes  manifest  that  present-making  develops  into  the 
giving  of  a  part  to  prevent  loss  of  the  whole.  It  is  the 
policy  at  once  to  satisfy  cupidity  and  to  express  submission. 
"  The  Malagasy,  slaves  as  well  as  others,  occasionally  make 
presents  of  provisions  to  their  chiefs,  as  an  acknowledgment 
of  homage."  And  it  is  inferable  that  in  proportion  to  the 
})ower  of  chiefs,  will  be  the  anxiety  to  please  them;  both 
by  forestalling  their  greedy  desires  and  by  displaying 
loyalty. 

In  few  if  any  cases,  however,  does  the  carrying  of  gifts 

to  a  chief  become  so  developed  a  usage  in  a  simple  tribe. 

At  first  the  head  man,  not  much  differentiated  from  the  rest, 
64 


8f5  CEKKMOXIAL   IXSTITrTIOXS. 

fails  to  impress  tlieiri  with  a  fear  great  enough  to  make 
}>resent-giving  an  habitual  cereiiioiiy.  It  is  only  in  a  com- 
pound society,  resulting  from  the  over-running  of  many 
tribes  by  a  conquering  tribe,  that  there  comes  a  goveniing 
class,  formed  of  head-chief  and  sub-chiefs,  sufficiently  dis- 
tinguished from  the  rest,  and  sufHciently  powerful  to  inspire 
the  required  awe.  The  above. examples  are  all  taken  from 
societies  in  which  kingshi])  has  been  reached. 

§  370.  A  more  extended  form  is  simultaneously  as- 
sumed by  this  ceremony.  For  where  along  with  subordi- 
nate rulers  there  exists  a  chief  niler,  be  has  to  l>e  propitiated 
alike  by  the  people  at  large  and  by  the  subordinate  rulers. 
We  must  here  observe  the  growth  of  both  kinds  of  gift- 
making  that  hence  arise. 

A  place  in  which  the  usage  has  retained  its  primitive 
character  is  Tind)uctoo.  Here  "  the  king  does  not  levy  any 
tribute  on  bis  subjects  or  on  foreign  merchants,  but  be 
receives  presents."  But  Caillie  adds — '*  There  is  no  regular 
government.  The  king  is  like  a  father  ruling  his  children." 
AVhen  disputes  arise,  he  "  assembles  a  council  of  the  (dders." 
That  is  to  say,  present-giving  remains  voluntary  where  tlie 
kingly  power  is  not  great.  Among  the  Kaffirs,  we  see  gifts 
losing  their  voluntary  character.  "  The  revenue  of  the  king 
consists  of  an  annual  contribution  of  cattle,  first-fruits," 
.(kc;  and  ''when  a  Koossa  [Katl^ir]  opens  his  granary  he 
must  send  a  little  of  the  grain  to  his  neighbours,  and  a  larger 
portion  to  tlie  king."  In  Abyssinia  there  is  a  like  mixture  of 
exactions  and  spontaneous  gifts:  ])esides  settled  contribu- 
tions, th(^  ])rince  of  Tigre  receives  annual  )»resents.  Evi- 
dently when  presents  tlint  have  l»ecome  ciistoiiiai-y  have 
ceased  in  so  far  to  be  f)roi)itiatory,  there  is  a  tendency  to 
make  other  presents  that  are  propitiatory  because;  unex- 
pected. 

If  an  offering  made  by  a  privat<'  ])('rson  im[)lies  submis- 
si(;n,  still  more  ii(X'S  an  offering  niad(!  by  a  subordinate  ruler 


PRESENTS.  87 

to  a  supreme  ruler.  Hence  the  making  of  presents  grows 
into  a  formal  recognition  of  supremacy.  In  ancient  Vera 
Pas,  ''  as  soon  as  some  one  was  elected  king  ...  all  the 
h>r(ls  of  the  tribes  appeared  or  sent  relations  of  theirs  .  .  . . 
with  presents."  Among  the  Chibchas,  when  a  new  king 
came  to  the  throne,  "  the  chief  men  then  took  an  oath  that 
the  J  would.be  obedient  and  lojal  vassals,  and  as  a  proof  of 
their  loyalty  each  one  gave  him  a  jewel  and  a  number  of 
rabbits,  A:c."  Of  the  Mexicans,  Toribio  says — "  Each  year, 
at  certain  festivals,  those  Indians  wlio  did  not  pay  taxes, 
even  the  chiefs  .  .  .  made  gifts  to  the  sovereigns  ...  in 
token  of  their  submission."  And  so  in  Peru,  "'no  one  ap- 
proached Atahuall])a  without  bringing  a  })resent  in  token 
of  submission."  This  significance  of  gift-making  is  shown 
in  the  records  of  the  Hebrews.  In  proof  of  Solomon's 
supremacy  it  is  said  that  "  all  the  kings  of  the  earth 
sought  the  presence  of  Solomon  .  .  .  and  they  brought 
every  man  his  present  ...  a  rate  year  by  year."  Con- 
Aersely,  when  Saul  was  chosen  king  "  the  children  of  Belial 
said,  How  shall  tliis  man  save  us?  And  they  despised  him, 
and  brought  hiiu  no  presents."  Throughout  the  remote 
East  the  bringing  of  presents  to  the  chief  ruler  has  still  the 
same  meaning.  I  have  before  ,me  illustrative  facts  from 
Japan,  from  C^hina,  from  Burmah. 

Nor  does  early  European  history  fail  to  exemplify  pres- 
ent-giving and  its  implications.  During  the  ]\rerovingian  ■ 
period  "■  on  a  fixed  day,  once  a-year,  in  the  field  of  March, 
according  to  ancient  custom,  gifts  were  offered  to  the  kings 
by  the  people;  "  and  this  custom  continued  into  the  Carolin- 
gian  period.  Such  gifts  were  made  alike  by  individuals  and 
communities.  Erom  the  time  of  Gontram,  who  was  over- 
whelmed with  gifts  by  the  inhabitants  of  Orleans  on  his  en- 
try, it  long  continued  the  habit  with  towns  thus  to  seek  the 
goodwill  of  monarchs  who  visited  them.  In  ancient  Eng- 
land, too,  wlien  the  monarchs  visited  a  town,  present-mak- 
ing entailed  so  heavy  a  loss  that  in  some  cases  "  the  passing 


88  CERE:\rOXTAT.   IXSTTTUTIOXS. 

of  the  royal  familv  and  court  was  viowod  as  a  i^roat  inisfor- 
tiiiio.'' 

§  371.  Grouped  as  above,  the  evidencfe  implies  that 
from  propitiatory  presents,  vohnitarv  and  exceptional  to  be- 
gin with  but  bet'oniing  as  political  poM'er  strengthens  less 
volinitary  and  more  general,  there  eventually  grow  up 
universal  and  involuntary  contributions — established  trib- 
ute; and  that  with  the  rise  of  a  currency  this  passes  into 
taxation.  How  this  transformation  takes  place,  is  well 
shown  in  Persia.  S})eaking  of  the  '"  irregular  and  o|)pres- 
sive  taxes  to  which  they  [the  Persians]  are  continually  ex- 
posed," Malcolm  says — *'  The  first  of  these  extra  taxes  may 
be  termed  usual  and  extraordinary  ])resents.  The  usual 
presents  to  the  king  are  those  made  annually  by  all  govern- 
ors of  provinces  arid  districts,  chiefs  of  tribes,  ministers,  and 
all  other  officers  in  high  charge,  at  the  feast  of  Xourouze, 
or  vernal  equinox.  .  .  .  The  amount  presented  on  this 
occasion  is  generally  regulated  by  usage ;  to  fall  short  is  loss 
of  office,  and  to  exceed  is  increase  of  favour." 

The  passing  of  present-making  into  })ayment  of  tribute 
as  it  becomes  periodic,  is  clearly  exemplitied  in  some  com- 
jiaratively  small  societies,  where  governmntal  power  is 
well  established.  In  Tonga  "  the  higher  class  of  chiefs 
generally  make  a  present  to  the  king,  of  hogs  and  yams, 
about  once  a  fortnight :  these  chiefs  at  the  same  time  receive 
presents  from  those  below  them,  and  these  last  from  others, 
and  so  on,  down  to  the  common  people."  Ancient  IMexico, 
formed  of  provinces  dependent  in  various  degrees,  exhibited 
several  stages  of  the  transition.  "  The  provinces  .  .  . 
made  these  contributions  .  .  .  since  they  were  conquered, 
that  the  gallant  Mexicans  might  .  ,  .  cease  to  destroy 
tliem:  "  clearly  showing  that  the  ]u-esents  were  at  first  pro- 
pitiatory. Again,  "  in  ^Feztitlan  the  tribute  was  not  paid 
at  fixed  times  .  .  .  but  when  the  lord  wanted  it."  Then  of 
the  tributes  throughout  the  country  of  ^lontezuma,  we  are 


PRESENTS.  89 

told  that  "  some  of  these  were  paid  annually,  others  every 
six  months,  and  others  every  eighty  days."  And  further  of 
the  gifts  made  at  festivals  by  some  "  in  token  of  their 
submission,"  Toribio  says — "  In  this  way  it  seems  manifest 
that  the  chiefs,  the  merchants,  and  the  landed  proprietors, 
were  not  obliged  to  pay  taxes,  but  did  so  voluntarily." 

A  like  transition  is  traceable  in  early  European  history. 
Among  the  sources-  of  revenue  of  the  Merovingian  kings, 
Waitz  enumerates  the  freewill  gifts  of  the  people  on  various 
occasions,  besides  the  yearly  presents  made  originally  at  the 
]\Iareh  gatherings.  And  then,  speaking  of  these  yearly 
presents  in  the  Carolingian  period,  the  same  writer  says 
they  had  long  lost  their  voluntary  character,  and  are  even 
described  as  a  tax  by  Ilincmar.  They  included  horses,  gold, 
silver,  and  jewels,  and  (from  nunneries)  garments,  and 
rc(|uisitions  for  the  royal  palaces;  and  he  adds  that  these 
dues,  or  trihuta,  were  all  of  a  more  or  less  private  character: 
though  compulsory  they  had  not  yet  become  taxes  in  the 
literal  sense.  So,  too,  with  the  things  presented  to  minor 
rulers  by  their  feudal  dependants.  "  The  dona,  after  hav- 
ing been,  as  the  name  sufhciently  indicates,  voluntary  gifts, 
were  in  the  twelfth  century  become  territorial  dues  received 
by  the  lords." 

In  proportion  as  A'alues  became  more  definite  and  })ay- 
ments  in  coin  easier,  commutation  resulted.  Instance, 
in  the  C^irolingian  period,  "  the  so-called  inferenda — a  due  • 
originally  paid  in  cattle,  now  in  money;  "  instance  the 
oxiblies^  consisting  of  bread  "  presented  on  certain  days  by 
vassals  to  their  lords,"  whirli  "  were  often  replaced  by  a 
small  annual  due  in  money;  "  instance,  in  our  own  history, 
the  giving  of  mon(\v  instead  of  goods  by  towns  to  a  king 
and  his  suite  making  a  progress  through  them.  The  evi- 
dence may  fitly  be  closed  with  the  following  passage 
from  Stubbs : — 

"The  ordinary  revenue  of  the  English  king  had  been  derived 
solely  from  the  royal  estates  and  the  produce  of  what  had  been  the 


90-  CEREMONIAL    LNSTITL'TIONS. 

folkland,  with  such  commuted  payments  of  feorrafultum,  or  provision 
iu  kind,  as  represented  eitlier  tlie  reserved  rents  from  ancient  ])osses- 
sions  of  the  crown,  or  the  quasi-voluntary  tribute  paid  by  the  nation 
to  its  chosen  head." 

In  wliirli  passage  arc  siniultancouslv  iiii])lie(l  the  transition 
from  voluntary  gifts  to  involuntary  tribute,  and  the  eounuu- 
tation  of  ti'il)ut('  into  taxes. 

§  oT2.  If  voluntary  gifts  to  the  supreme  man  by-and-hy 
become  tribute,  and  eventually  form  a  settled  revenue,  may 
we  not  expect  that  gifts  made  to  his  subordinates,  when 
their  aid  is  wished,  will  similarly  become  customary,  and  at 
length  yield  them  maintenance'^  AYill  not  the  prcx'ess  above 
indicated  in  relation  to  the  major  State-functionary,  ix>peat 
itself  with  the  minor  State-functionaries?  We  find  that  it 
does  so. 

First  it  is  to  be  noted  that,  besides  ordinary  presents,  the 
riding  man  in  early  stages  commonly  has  s])ecial  ]ircsents 
made  to  him  wheii  called  on  to  use  his  ])ower  in  aid  of  an 
aggrieved  subject.  Among  the  (^hibchas,  "  no  (me  could 
api^ear  in  the  ])resence  of  a  king,  cazi(pu»,  or  superior,  with- 
out bringing  a  gift,  which  w^as  to  be  delivered  before  the 
petition  was  made."  Tn  Sumatra,  a  chief  "  levies  no 
taxes,  nor  has  any  revenue,  .  .  .  or  other  emolument  from 
his  subjects,  than  what  accrues  to  him  from  the  deter- 
mination of  causes."  Of  (lulab  Singh,  a  late  ruler  of 
rFununoo,  j\lr.  Drew  says — ''  With  the  customary  offering 
of  a  rupee  Bls,  nazar  [present]  any  one  could  gel  his  ear; 
even  in  a  <'rowd  one  could  catch  his  eye  by  holding  up  a 
rupee  and  crying  out.  .  .  .  '  Mahai-ajah,  a  petiti<»n.'  lie 
would  ))ounce  down  like  a  hawk  on  the  luoiicy.  and,  having 
}i))|)roj)riated  it,  would  patiently  hear  out  the  ])etitioner." 
There  is  evidence  that  among  ours(dves  in  ancient  days  a 
kiudi-cd  usage  existed.  "  We  may  readily  believe,"  says 
Jh-oom,  referring  to  a  statement  of  Lingard,  "  that  few 
princes  in  those  [Anglo-SjixonJ  days,  declined  to  exercise 


PRESENTS.  .  91 

judicial  functions  when  solicited  by  favourites,  tejnpted  by 
bribery,  or  stimulated  by  cupidity  and  avarice."  And  ou 
reading  that  in  early  Xornian  times  ''  the  first  step  in  the 
process  of  obtaining  redress  was  to  sue  out,  or  purchase, 
by  paying  the  stated  fees,"  the  king's  original  writ,  re- 
quiring the  defendant  to  appear  before  him,  we  may  suspect 
that  the  amount  paid  for  this  document  represented  what 
had  originally  been  the  present  to  the  king  for  giving  his 
judicial  aid.  There  is  support  for  this  inference.  Black- 
stone  says : — "  ISTow,  indeed,  even  the  royal  writs  are  held  to 
be  demandable  of  common  right,  on  paying  the  usual  fees:  " 
implying  a  preceding  time  in  which  the  granting  of  them 
was  a  matter  of  royal  favour  obtained  by  propitiation. 

Xaturally,  then,  when  judicial  and  other  functions 
come  to  be  deputed,  gifts  will  similarly  be  made  to  obtain 
the  services  of  the  functionaries;  and  these,  originally  vol- 
untary, will  become  com]:>ulsory.  Ancient  records  yield 
evidence.  Amos  ii.  6,  implies  that  judges  received  presents; 
as  are  said  to  do  the  Turkish  magistrates  in  the  same  regions 
down  to  our  day;  and  on  finding  that  habitually  among  the 
Kirghis,  "  the  judge  takes  presents  from  l)oth  sides,"  we  see 
that  the  assumption  of  the  prophet,  and  of  the  modern  ob- 
server, that  this  usage  arose  by  a  corruption,  adds  one  to 
those  many  cases  in  which  survival  of  a  lower  state  is  mis- 
taken for  degradation  of  a  higher.  In  France,  the  king  in 
ISSG  jm[)()sed  on  his  judicial  officials,  "  high  and  subal- 
terns, an  oath  to  make  or  receive  no  ])resent,  to  administer 
justice  without  regard  to  persons."  Nevertheless  gifts  con- 
tinued. Judges  re('(>ived  ''  spices  "  as  a  mark  of  gratitude 
from  those  who  had  won  a  cause.  By  lo09,  if  not  before, 
these  were  converted  into  money;  and  in  140:^  they  were 
recognized  as  dues.  In  our  own  history  the  case  of  Bacon 
exem[)lifies  not  a  special  and  Iat(>  practice,  but  an  old  and 
usual  one.  Local  records  show  tlie  habitiuil  making  of  gifts 
to  officers  of  justice  iuid  their  attendants;  and  "  no  approat'h 
to  a  great  man,  a  inagitjtrate,  or  courtier,  was  ever  made 


92.  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

without  the  oriental  act'ompaniinent — a  gift."  "  Damage 
cleer,"  a  gratuity  to  prothonotarics,  had  become  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  a  fixed  assessment.  That  the  pres- 
ents to  State-functionaries  formed,  in  some  cases,  tlieir 
entire  revenues,  is  inferable  from  the  fact  that  in  the  twelfth 
century  the  great  offices  of  the  royal  household  were  bought: 
the  value  of  the  presents  received  was  great  enough  to 
make  the  places  worth  buying.  Good  evidence  comes  from 
Russia.  Karamsin  "  repeats  the  observations  of  the  travel- 
lers who  visited  Muscovy  in  the  sixteenth  century : — '  Is  it 
surprising,'  says  these  strangers,  '  that  the  Grand  Prince  is 
rich  ?  He  neither  gives  money  to  his  troops  nor  his  ambassa- 
dors; he  even  takes  from  these  last  all  the  costly  things 
they  bring  back  from  foreign  lands.  .  .  .  Nevertheless 
these  men  do  not  complain.'  "  Whence  we  must  infer  that, 
lacking  payments  from  above,  they  lived  on  gifts  from  be- 
low. Whence,  further,  it  becomes  manifest  that  Avhat  we 
call  the  bribes,  which  the  miserably -salaried  officials  in  Rus- 
sia now  require  before  performing  their  duties,  rei:)resent  the 
presents  which  formed  their  sole  maintenance  in  times  when 
they  had  no  salaries.  And  the  like  may  be  inferred  respect- 
ing Spain,  of  which  Rose  says: — ^'  From  judge  .down  to 
constable,  bribery  and  corrni)tion  ])rcvail.  .  .  .  There  is 
this  excuse,  however,  for  the  i)<>or  Spanish  official.  His  gov- 
ernment gives  him  no  remuneration,  and  exjx'cts  every- 
thing of  him." 

So  natural  has  lial)it  now  made  to  us  tlic  ])aynient  (tf 
fixed  sums  for  specified  services,  that  we  assume  this  relation 
to  have  existed  from  the  beginning.  But  when  we  read- 
how,  in  slightly-organized  societies,  such  as  that  of  the 
Bechuanas,  the  chiefs  allow  their  attendants  '*  a  scanty 
portion  of  food  or  milk,  and  leave  them  to  make  up  the 
deficiency  by  hunting  or  by  digging  up  wild  roots;  "  and 
how,  in  societies  considerably  more  advanced,  as  Dahomey, 
"  no  officer  under  government  is  paid;  "  we  are  shown  that 
originally  the  subordinates  of  the. chief  man,  not  officially 


PRESENTS.  93 

supported,  have  to  support  themselves.  And  as  their 
jiositions  enable  them  to  injure  or  to  benefit  subject  persons 
— as,  indeed,  it  is  often  only  by  their  aid  that  the  chief  man 
can  be  invoked;  there  arises  the  same  motive  to  propitiate 
them  by  presents  that  there  does  to  propitiate  by  presents 
the  chief  man  liimself.  Whence  the  parallel  growth  of  an 
income.  Here,  from  the  East,  is  an  illustration  come  upon 
since  the  foregoing  sentences  were  first  published: — ''  None 
of  these  [servants  or  slaves]  receive  any  wages,  but  the 
master  presents  each  with  a  suit  of  clothes  at  the  great 
yearly  festival,  and  gifts  arc  also  bestowed  upon  them, 
mostly  in  money  (bakshish),  from  such  visitors  as  have 
business  with  their  master,  and  desire  a  good  word  spoken 
to  him  at  the  opportune  moment." 

§  373.  Since,  at  first,  the  double  of  the  dead  man,  like 
him  in  all  other  respects,  is  conceived  as  being  no  less  liable 
to  pain,  cold,  hunger,  thirst;  he  is  supposed  to  be  similarly 
])ropitiated  by  providing  for  him  food,  drink,  clothing,  &c. 
At  the  outset,  then,  presents  to  the  dead  differ  from  presents 
to  the  living  neither  in  meaning  nor  motive. 

Lower  forms  of  society  all  over  the  w'orld  furnish 
proofs.  Food  and  drink  are  left  with  the  unburied  corpse 
by  Papuans,  Tahitians,  Sandwich  Islanders,  Malanans,  Ba- 
dagas,  Karens,  ancient  Peruvians,  Brazilians,  &c.  Food 
and  drink  are  afterward  carried  to  the  grave  in  Africa  by  the 
Sherbro  people,  the  Loango  people,  the  inland  Kegroes,  the 
Dahomans,  and  others;  throughout  the  Indian  hills  by 
Bliils,  Santals,  Kukis;  in  America  by  Caribs,  Chibclias, 
j\k\\icans;  and  the  like  usage  was  general  among  ancient 
races  in  the  East.  Clothes  are  periodically  taken  as  pres- 
ents to  the  dead  by  the  Esquimaux.  In  Patagonia  they  an- 
nually open  the  sepulchral  chambers  and  re-clothe  the  dead; 
as  did,  too,  the  ancient  Peruvians.  When  a  potentate  dies 
among  the  Congo  people,  tlie  quantity  of  clothes  given  from 
time  to  time  is  so  great  "  that  the  first  hut  in  which  the  body 


94  CEREMONIAL    INt^TlTUTlUNS. 

is  deposited  l>eeoniiiig  too  small,  a  second,  a  third,  even  to  a 
sixth,  increasing  in  dimensions,  is  phiced  over  it."  And, 
oecasionally,  the  gifts  made  by  snl>ordiuate  rulers  to  the 
ghost  of  a  supreme  dead  ruler,  simulate  the  tribute  paid  to 
him  when  living.  Concerning  a  royal  funeral  in  Toncjuin, 
Tavernier  writes: — 

"There  proceeds  afterwards  Six  Princesses  who  carry  Meat  and 
Driuk  for  the  deceased  King.  .  .  .  Four  Goveruours  of  the  four 
chief  provinces  of  the  Kingdom,  each  bearing  a  stick  on  liis  shoulder, 
on  which  luings  a  bag  full  of  Gold  and  several  Perfumes,  and  these 
bags  contain  the  Presents  which  the  several  Provinces  make  unto  the 
deceased  King,  for  to  be  buried  with  his  corps,  tliat  he  ina\-  make  use 
of  the  same  in  the  other  World." 

Nor  can  there  be  any  doubt  alniut  the  likeness  of  intention. 
When  we  read  that  a  chief  among  the  New  Caledonians  says 
to  the  ghost  of  his  ancestor — ''  Compassionate  father,  here 
is  some  food  for  you;  eat  it;  be  kind  to  us  on  account  of 
it;  "  or  when  the  Veddali,  calling  by  name  a  deceased  rela- 
tive, says — "Come  and  partake  of  this,  (tive  us  mainte- 
nance, as  you  did  when  living;  "  we  see  it  to  be  undeniable 
that  i)resent-giving  t<»  the  dead  is  like  jji-esent-giving  to  the 
living,  with  the  difference  that  the  receiver  is  invisible. 

Xoting  only  that  there  is  a  like  motive  for  a  like  pr(t])itia- 
tion  of  the  undistinguished  su])ernatural  beings  which 
primitive  men  sup]M>se  to  be  all  around  them — noting  that 
whether  it  be  in  the  fragments  of  hvvml  and  cake  left  for 
elves  by  our  Scandinavian  ancestors,  oi-  in  the  eatables 
which  Dyaks  ])lace  on  the  tops  of  tlieii-  houses  to  feed  the 
spirits,  or  in  the  portions  of  food  cast  aside  and  of  drink 
poured  out. for  the  gliosts  l^efore  beginning  their  meals,  by 
various  races  tliroughout  the  world;  let  us  go  on  to  observe 
the  developed  jiresent-making  to  the  dev(!loj)ed  sujx'nititural 
being.  The  things  given  and  the  motives  for  giving  them 
remain  the  same;  though  the  sameness  is  disguised  by  the 
use  of  different  words — oblations  to  a  deity  and  presents  to 
a  living  i>erson.     The  original  identity  is  well  shown  in  the 


PRESENTS.  95 

statement  concerning  the  Greeks — "  Gifts,  a^  an  old  prov- 
erb says,  determine  the  acts  of  gods  and  kings;  "  and  it  is 
equally  well  shown  by  a  verse  in  the  Psalms  (Ixxvi.  11) — 
"  Vow,  and  pay  unto  the  Lord  your  God;  let  all  that  be 
round  about  him  bring  presents  unto  him  that  ought  to  be 
feared."    Observe  the  parallelism  in  detail. 

Food  and  drink,  which  constitute  the  earliest  kind  of 
propitiatory  gift  to  a  living  person,  and  also  the  earliest 
kind  of  propitiatory  gift  to  a  ghost,  remain  everywhere  the 
essential  components  of  an  oblation  to  a  deity.  As,  where 
political  power  is  evolving,  the  presents  sent  to  the  chief 
at  fii-st  consist  mainly  of  sustenance;  so,  where  ancestor- 
worship,  developing,  has  expanded  a  ghost  into  a  god,  the 
offerings  liave  as  elements  common  to  them  in  all  places 
and  times,  things  serving  for  nutrition.  That  this  is  so  in 
low  societies  no  proof  is  needed ;  and  that  it  is  so  in  higher 
societies  is  also  a  cons])icuous  fact;  though  a  fact  ignored 
where  its  signilicance  is  most  worthy  to  be  remarked.  If  a 
Zulu  slays  an  ox  to  secure  the  goodwill  of  his  dead  relative's 
ghost,  who  complains  to  him  in  a  dream  that  he  has  not 
been  fed — if  among  tlie  Zulus  this  private  act  develops  into 
a  public  act  wdien  a  bullock  is  periodically  killed  as  "  a  pro- 
pitiatory Offering  to  the  Spirit  of  the  King's  immediate 
Ancestor;  ''  we  may,  witliout  impropriety,  ask  whether 
there  do  not  thus  arise  such  acts  as  those  of  an  Egyptian 
king,  who  by  hecatombs  of  oxen  hopes  to  please  the  ghost  of 
liis  deified  fatlnn"  but  it  is  not  sup})osal)le  that  there  was 
Huy  kindred  origin  for  the  sacrifices  of  cattle  to  dalivch,  con- 
cerning which  such  elaborate  dinn-tions  are  given  in  Leviti- 
cus. When  we  read  that  among  the  Greeks  "  it  was  cus- 
tomary to  pay  the  same  offices  to  the  gods  which  men  stand 
in  need  of:  the  tem]des  were  their  houses,  sacrifices  their 
food,  altars  their  tables;  "  it  is  permissible  to  observe  the 
analogy  between  these  presents  of  eatables  made  to  go<ls, 
and  the  presents  of  eatables  made  at  graves  to  the  dead, 
as  being  both  derived  from  gindlar  presents  made  to  the 


96  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

living;  but  that  the  presentation  cf  meat,  broad,  fruits,  and 
liquors  to  Jahvcli  had  a  kindi'Otl  derivation,  is  a  thouiiht 
not  to  be  entertained — not  e\en  thougli  we  have  a  (•()in])lete 
parallel  between  the  eakes  whi(di  Abraham  bakes  to  rcfresli 
the  Lord  wlien  he  comes  to  visit  him  in  his  tent  on  the 
plains  of  ^lann-e,  and  the  shew-bread  kept  on  the  jdtar  and 
from  time  to  time  replaced  bv  other  bread  fresh  and  hot 
(1  Sam.  xxi,  (5).  Here,  however,  recog'iiizing-  these  paral- 
lelisms, it  may  be  added  that  though  in  later  Hebrew  times 
the  original  and  gTOss  interpretation  of  sacrifices  became 
obscured,  and  tliough  the  primitive  theory  has  since  under- 
gone gradual  dissipation,  jet  the  form  sur^^ves.  The  otTer- 
tory  of  our  Church  still  retains  the  words — "  accept  our 
alms  and  oblations;  "  and  at  her  coronation.  Queen  Victoria 
offered  on  the  altar,  by  the  hands  of  the  archbishop,  "  an 
altar-cloth  of  gold  and  an  ingot  of  gold,"  a  sword,  then 
"  bread  and  wine  for  the  communion,"  then  "  a  purse  of 
gold,"  followed  by  a  prayer  "  to  receive  these  oblations." 

Evidence  from  all  parts  of  the  world  thus  proves  that 
oblations  arc  at  first  literally  presents.  Animals  are  given 
to  kings,  slain  on  graves,  sacrificed  in  temples;  cooked  food 
is  furnished  to  chiefs,  laid  on  tombs,  placed 'on  altars;  first- 
fruits  are  presented  to  living  rulers,  to  dead  rulers,  to  gods; 
here  beer,  here  wine,  here  chica^  is  sent  to  a  potentate, 
offered  to  a  ghost,  and  poured  out  as  libation  to  a  deity; 
incense,  burnt  before  ancient  kings,  and  in  some  places 
burnt  l)efore  distinguished  persons,  is  burnt  before  gods  in 
various  places;  and  besides  such  consumable  things,  valua- 
bles of  every  kind,  given  to  secure  goodwill,  are  accumu- 
lated in  royal  treasuries  and  in  sacred  temples. 

Inhere  is  one  further  remark  of  moment.  We  saw  that  the 
present  to  the  visible  ruh'r  was  at  first  propitiatory  because 
of  it§  intrinsic  worth,  but  came  afterwards  to  have  an 
extrinsic  propitiatory  cflPect  as  implying  loyalty.  Similarly, 
the  presents  to  the  invisible  ruler,  primarily  considered  as 
directly  useful,  secondarily  come  to  signify  obedience;   and 


PRESENTS.  97 

tlieir  secondary  meaning  gives  that  ceremonial  character  to 
sacrifice  which  still  survives. 

§  374.  And  now  we  come  upon  a  remarkable  sequence. 
As  the  present  to  the  ruler  eventually  develops  into  political 
revenue,  so  the  present  to  the  god  eventually  develops  into 
ecclesiastical  revenue. 

Let  us  set  out  with  that  earliest  stage  in  which  no  eccle- 
siastical organization  exists.  At  this  stage  the  present  to 
the  supernatural  being  is  often  shared  between  him  and 
those  who  worship  him.  While  the  supernatural  being  is 
propitiated  by  the  gift  of  food,  there  is,  by  eating  together, 
established  between  him  and  his  propitiators  a  bond  of 
union:  imi)lying  protection  on  the  one  side  and  allegiance 
on  the  other.  The  primitive  notion  that  the  nature  of  a 
thing,  inhering  in  all  its  parts,  is  acquired  by  those  who 
consume  it,  and  that  therefore  those  who  consume  two  parts 
of  one  thing,  acquire  from  it  some  nature  in  common — -that 
same  notion  which  initiates  the  practice  of  forming  a  broth- 
erhood by  partaking  of  one  another's  blood,  which  instigates 
the  funeral  rite  of  blood-offering,  and  which  gives  strength 
to  the  claims  established  by  joining  in  the  same  meal, 
originates  this  ])reva]ent  usage  of  eating  part  of  that  which 
is  presented  to  the  ghost  or  to  the  god.  In  some  places  the 
])Oople  at  large  participate  in  the  offering;  in  some  places 
the  medicine-men  or  priests  only;  and  in  some  places  the 
last  practice  is  habitual  while  the  first  is  occasional,  as  in 
ancient  Mexico,  where  communicants  ''  who  had  ])artaken 
of  the  sacred  food  were  engaged  to  serve  the  god  duriug 
the  subsequent  year." 

Here  the  fact  which  concerns  us  is  that  fi-om  tlic  presents 
thus  used,  there  arises  a  maintenance  for  the  sacerdotal 
class.  Among  the  Kukis  the  priest,  to  pacify  the  angry 
deity  who  has  made  some  one  ill,  takes,  it  may  be  a  fowl, 
whicli  he  says  the  god  requires,  and  pouring  its  blood  as  an 
offering   on   the   ground   while   muttering   praises,    ''  then 


98  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIOi^S. 

deliberately  sits  down,  roasts  niid  eats  tlio  fowl,  throws  the 
refuse  into  tlic  jungle  and  returns  home."  The  liattas  of 
Sumatra  saeritiee  to  their  gods,  horses,  butt'aloes,  goats, 
dog-s,  fowls,  "  or  whatever  animal  the  wizard  happens  on 
that  day  to  be  most  inelined  to  eat."  And  by  the  Hustar 
tribes  in  India,  Kodo  Pen  "  is  worshipped  at  a  small  heap  of 
stones  by  every  new-comer,  through  the  oldest  resident, 
with  fowls,  eggs,  grains,  and  a  few  co]>per  coins,  whicb 
become  the  property  of  the  officiating  priest."  Africa  has 
more  developed  societies  which  show  us  a  kindred  arrange- 
ment. In  Dahomey,  "  those  who  have  the  '  cure  of  souls  ' 
receive  ho  regular  pay,  but  live  well  upon  the  benevolences 
of  votaries:  "  in  their  temples,  "small  offerings  are  daily 
given  by  devotees,  and  removed  by  the  priests."  Similarly 
in  Ashantee,  "  the  revenue  of  the  fetishmen  is  derived  from 
the  liberality  of  the  people.  A  moiety  of  the  oiferings 
wliich  are  presented  to  the  fetish  belongs  to  the  priests." 
It  is  the  same  in  Polyn(>sia.  Describing;  the  Tahitian  doc- 
tor as  almost  invariably  a  priest,  Elh's  states  that  he  received 
a  fee,  part  of  which  was  supposed  to  belong  to  the  gods,  be- 
fore commencing:  operations.  So,  too,  was  it  in  the  an- 
cient states  of  Central  America.  A  cross-examination 
narrated  by  Oviedo,  contains  tlie  j)assage: — 

"7<V.  Do  you  offer  anythinij:  else  in  your  teni]iles  ? 

"  IniJ.  Every  one  brings  from  his  house  what  lie  wishes  to  offer — 
as  fowls,  fish,  or  maize,  or  other  things — and  the  boys  take  it  and  put 
it  insidp  the  temple. 

"  Fr.  Who  eats  the  things  thus  offered  ? 

'^  Ind.  The  father  of  the  temple  eats  tlicni,  and  what  remains  is 
<3aten  by  the  boys." 

And  then  in  Peru,  where  worshi})  of  the  dead  was  a  main 
occu])ation  of  the  living,  the  accumulated  gifts  to  ghosts  and 
gods  liad  result('<l  in  sacred  estates,  numerous  and  rich,  out 
of  whicli  tlie  priests  of  all  kinds  were  maintained.  A 

paralh'l  gc^nesis  is  sliown  us  by  ancient  historic  peoples. 
Among  tlie  Greeks  "the  reniain.s  of  the  sacrifice  are  the 


PRESENTS.  99 

priests'  foes,"  and  ''  all  that  served  the  gods  Tvere  main- 
tained bv  the  sacrifices  and  other  holv  offerings."  Xor  was 
it  otherwise  with  the  Hebrews.  In  Leviticus  ii.  10,  we  read 
— "  And  that  which  is  left  of  the  meat  offering  shall  be 
Aaron's  and  his  sons'  "  (the  appointed  priests) ;  while  other 
passages  entitle  the  priest  to  the  skin  of  the  oft'ering,  and 
to  the  whole  of  the  baked  and  fried  offering.  Neither  does 
the  history  of  earlv  Christianity  fail  to  exhibit  the  like 
development.  "  In  the  first  ages  of  the  Church,  those 
deposita  pietatis  which  are  mentioned  by  Tertullian  were 
all  voluntary  oblations."  xVfterwards  ''  a  more  fixed  main- 
tenance was  necessary  for  the  clergy;  but  still  oblations 
were  made  by  the  people.  .  .  .  These  oblations  [defined  as 
'  whatever  religious  Christians  offered  to  God  and  the 
(^liurch'],  which  were  at  first  voluntary,  became  'after- 
wards, by  continual  payment,  due  by  custom."  In  medi- 
aeval times  a  further  stage  in  the  transition  is  shown  us: — 
"  Besides  what  was  necessary  for  the  communion  of  priests 
and  laymen,  and  that  which  was  intended  for  eulogies,  it 
was  at  first  the  usage  to  offer  all  sorts  of  presents,  which  at  a 
later  date  were  taken  to  the  bishop's  house  and  ceased  to  be 
brought  to  the  church."  And  then  by  continuation  and 
enlargement  of  such  donations,  growing  into  bequests,  nom- 
inally to  God  and  jiractically  to  the  Church,  there  grew 
up  ecclesiastical  revenues. 

§  375.  The  foregoiug  statements  represent  all  presents 
as  made  by  inferiors  to  jjropitiate  superiors;  ignoring  the 
presents  made  by  supcn-iors  to  inferiors.  The  contrast  be- 
tween the  two  in  meaning,  is  well  recognized  where  pres- 
ent-making is  much  elaborated,  as  in  China.  ''  At  or  after 
the  customary  visits  between  superiors  and  inferiors,  an 
interchange  of  presents  takes  place;  but  those  from  the 
former  are  bestowed  as  donations^  while  the  latter  are 
received  as  qferhign :  these  being  the  Chinese  terms  for 
such  presents  as  pass  between  the  emperor  and  foreign 


100  CEREMONIAL   TXSTITUTTOXS. 

princes."     Concerning  donations  sonictliing  nmst  hero  be 
said,  tliongli  their  ceremonial  character  is  not  marked. 

As  the  power  of  the  political  head  develops,  nntil  at 
length  he  assumes  universal  ownership,  there  resiilts  a  state 
in  which  he  finds  it  needful  to  give  back  part  of  that 
which  he  has  monopolized;  and  having  been  originally 
subordinated  by  giving,  his  dependants  are  now,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  further  subordinated  by  Teceiving.  People  of 
whom  it  can  be  said,  as  of.  the  Ivukis,  that  "  all  the  prop- 
erty they  possess  is  by  simple  sufferance  of  the  rajah," 
or  people  who,  like  the  Dahomans,  are  owned  in  body  and 
estate  by  their  king,  are  obviously  so  conditioned  that 
property  having  flowed  in  excess  to  the  political  centre 
nuist  flow  down  again  from  lack  of  other  use.  Hence,  in 
Dahomey,  though  no  State-functionary  is  paid,  the  king 
gives  his  miuistcrs  and  officers  royal  bounty.  Without 
travelling  further  afield  for  illustrations,  it  will  suffice  if  we 
note  these  relations  of  causes  and  effects  in  early,  Euro])ean 
times.  Of  the  ancient  Germans,  Tacitus  says — "  The 
chief  must  show  his  liberality,  and  the  follower  exj^ects  it. 
He  demands  at  one  time  this  war-horse;  at  another,  that 
victorious  lance  ini])ruo(l  with  the  enemy's  blood.  The 
prince's  table,  however  inelegant,  nmst  always  be  plentiful; 
it  is  the  only  pay  of  his  followers."  That  is,  a  monopolizing 
supremacy  had,  as  its  serpience,  gratuities  to  dependants. 
Median'al  days  in  France  w(M"e  characterized  by  modified 
forms  of  the  same  system.  Tn  the  thirteenth  century,  "  in 
order  that  the  princes  of  the  blood,  the  whole  royal  iiouse, 
the  great  officers  of  the  crown,  and  those  .  .  .  of  the 
king's  household,  should  appear  with  distinction,  the  king 
gave  them  dresses  according  to  the  rank  they  held  and 
suitably  to  the  season  at  which  these  solemn  courts  were 
celebrated.  These  dresses  were  called  liveries  {livrtfes) 
because  they  were  delivered,"  as  the  king's  free  gifts:  a 
statement  showing  how  accej)tance  of  such  gifts  went  along 
with    subordination.      It    needs    scarcely    be    added    that 


PRESENTS.  101 

tliroiiglioiit  the  same  stages  of  progress  in  .Europe,  the 
scattering  of  largesse  to  the  people  by  the  kings,  dukes,  and 
nobles,  was  similarly  a  concomitant  of  that  servile  position 
in  which  such  return  as  they  got  for  their  labour  in  addi- 
tion to  daily  sustenance,  was  in  the  shape  of  presents  rather 
than  in  the  shape  of  wages.  Moreover,  we  still  have  in  vails 
and  Christmas-boxes  to  servants,  &c.,  the  remnants  of  a 
system  under  which  fixed  remuneration  was  eked  out  by 
gratuities — a  system  itself  sequent  upon  the  earlier  system 
under  which  gratuities  formed  the  only  remuneration. 

Thus  it  becomes  tolerably  clear  that  while  from  presents 
offered  by  subject  persons,  there  eventually  develop  tribute, 
taxes,  and  fees;  from  donations  made  by  ruling  persons 
there  eventually  develop  salaries. 

§  370.  Something  must  be  added  concerning  presents 
passing  between  those  who  do  not  stand  in  acknowledged 
relations  of  superior  and  inferior. 

Consideration  of  these  carries  us  back  to  the  primitive 
form  of  present-making,  as  it  occurs  between  members  of 
alien  societies;  and  on  looking  at  some  of  the  facts,  there  is 
suggested  a  question  of  much  interest — AVhether  from  the 
l)ropitiatory  gift  made  under  these  circumstances  there  does 
not  originate  another  important  kind  of  social  action? 
Barter  is  not,  as  we  are  apt  to  suppose,  universally  under- 
stood. Cook,  speaking  of  his  failure  to  make  any  exchange 
of  articles  with  the  Australians,  says — ''  They  had,  indeed, 
no  idea  of  traffic."  And  other  statements  suggest  that 
when  exchange  begins,  the  thought  of  equivalence  between 
the  things  given  and  received  scarcely  arises.  Of  the 
Ostyaks,  who  supjdied  them  "  with  plenty  of  fish  and  wild- 
fowl," Bell  remarks — ''  Give  them  only  a  little  tobacco  and 
a  dram  of  brandy,  and  they  ask  no  more,  not  knowing  the 
use  of  money."  Remembering  that  at  first  no  means  of 
measuring  values  exists,  and  that  the  conception  of  equality 
of  value  has  to  grow  by  use,  it  seems  not  impossible  that 
65 


102  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

mutual  propitiation  by  gifts  was  the  act  from  which  barter 
arose:  the  expectation  that  the  present  received  would  be 
of  like  worth  with  that  given,  being  gradually  established, 
and  the  exchanged  articles  simultaneously  losing  the 
character  of  presents.  One  may,  indeed,  see  the  connexion 
between  the  two  in  the  familiar  cases  of  gifts  made  by 
European  travellers  to  native  chiefs;  as  where  Mungo  Park 
writes — '*  Presented  ]\Iansa  Kussan  [the  chief  man  of  Juli- 
funda]  with  some  amber,  coral,  and  scarlet,  with  which  he 
appeared  to  be  perfectly  satisfied,  and  sent  a  bullock  in 
return."  Such  transactions  show  us  both  the  original 
meaning  of  the  initial  present  as  propitiatory,  and  the  idea 
that  the  responsive  present  should  have  an  a])proximately- 
like  value :  implying  informal  barter.  Xay  more.  Certain 
usages  of  the  Xorth  American  Indians  suggest  that  even  a 
circulating  medium  may  originate  from  propitiatory  pres- 
ents.    Catlin  writes: — 

"Wampum  has  been  invariably  manufactured,  and  liighly  valued 
as  a  circulating  medium  (instead  of  coins,  of  which  the  Indians  have 
no  knowledge);  so  many  strings,  or  so  many  hand's-breadth,  being 
the  fixed  value  of  a  horse,  a  gun,  a  robe,  &c.  In  treaties,  the  wam- 
pum belt  has  been  passed  as  the  pledge  of  friendship,  and  from  time 
immemorial  sent  to  hostile  tribes,  as  the  messenger  of  peace;  or  paid 
by  so  many  fathoms'  length,  as  tribute  to  conquering  enemies." 

Speculation  aside,  we  have  to  note  how  the  proj)itiatory 
present  becomes  a  social  observance.  That  along  with  the 
original  form  of  it,  signifying  allegiance,  there  goes  the 
spread  of  it  as  a  means  to  friendship,  was  shown  in  ancient 
America.  Of  the  Yucatanese  we  read  that,  "  at  their  visits 
the  Indians  always  carry  with  them  presents  to  be  given 
away,  according  to  their  position;  those  visited  respond  by 
another  gift."  In  Japan,  so  rigorously  ceremonious,  the 
stages  of  the  descent  are  well  shown.  There  are  the  periodic 
presents  to  the  Mikado,  expressive  of  loyalty;  there  is  "  the 
giving  of  presents  from  inferiors  to  superiors;  "  and  be- 
tween equals  ^'  it  is  customary  on  the  occasion  of  a  first  visit 


PRESENTS.  103 

to  a  house  to  carry  a  present  to  the  owner,  who  gives  some- 
thing of  equal  vahie  on  returning  the  visit."  Other  races 
show  us  this  niutiuil  propitiation  taking  other  forms. 
]\rarkham,  writing  of  Himalayan  people,  states  that  ex- 
changing caps  is  "as  certain  a  mark  of  friendship  in  the 
hills,  as  two  chiefs  in  the  plains  exchanging  turbans."  But 
the  most  striking  development  of  gift-making  into  a  form, 
occurs  in  Bootan;  where  "  between  people  of  every  rank 
and  station  in  life,  the  presenting  of  a  silk  scarf  constantly 
forms  an  essential  part  of  the  ceremonial  of  salutation." 

"An  inferior,  on  approaching  a  superior,  presents  tlie  white  silk 
scarf;  and,  when  dismissed,  has  one  thrown  over  his  neck,  with  the 
ends  hanging  down  in  front.  Equals  exchange  scarfs  on  meeting, 
bending  towards  each  other,  with  an  inclination  of  the  body.  No  in- 
tercourse whatever  takes  place  without  the  intervention  of  a  scarf; 
it  always  accompanies  every  letter,  being  enclosed  in  the  same  packet 
however  distant  the  place  to  which  it  is  despatched." 

How  gift-making,  first  developed  into  a  ceremony  by 
fear  of  the  chief  ruler,  and  made  to  take  a  wider  range  by 
fear  of  the  powerful,  is  eventually  rendered  general  by  fear 
of  equals  who  may  prove  enemies  if  they  are  passed  over 
when  others  are  propitiated,  we  may  gather  from  Euro- 
pean history.  Thus  in  Rome,  "  all  the  world  gave  or  re- 
ceived Xew  Year's  gifts."  Clients  gave  them  to  their 
patrons;  all  the  Romans  gave  them  to  Augustus.  "  He 
was  seated  in  the  entrance-hall  of  his  house;  they  defiled 
before  him,  and  every  citizen  holding  his  offering  in  his 
hand,  laid  it,  when  passing,  at  the  feet  of  that  terrestrial 
god  .  .  .  the  sovereign  gave  back  a  sum  equal  or  siqie- 
rior  to  their  presents."  Because  of  its  association  with 
pagan  institutions,  this  custom,  surviving  into  Christian 
times,  was  cimdemned  by  tlie  (^hurch.  In  5TS  the  Council 
of  Auxerre  forbade  New  Year's  gifts,  whk'h  it  character- 
ized in  strong  words.  Ives,  of  Chartres,  says — "  There  are 
some  who  accept  from  others,  and  themselves  give,  devil- 
ish New  Year's  gifts."     In  the  twelfth  century,  ^Maurice, 


104:  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

liislioj)  of  PnrifS,  preached  against  bad  people  who  ''  put  their 
faith  ill  })resents,  aiul  say  that  none  will  remain  rich  during 
the  year  if  he  has  not  had  a  gift  on  Xew  Year's  day."  Not- 
withstanding ecclesiastical  interdicts,  howe\'er,  the  custom 
survived  through  the  ^Middle  Ages  down  to  modern  times. 
Moreover,  there  simultaneously  developed  kindred  periodic 
ceremonies;  such  as,  in  France,  the  giving  of  Easter  eggs. 
And  present-makings  of  these  kinds  have  undergone 
changes  like  those  which  we  traced  in  other  kinds  of  pres- 
ent-makings: beginning  as  voluntary,  they  have  become  in 
a  measure  compulsory. 

§  377.  Spontaneously  made  among  ]>rimitive  men  to 
one  wdiose  goodwill  is  desired,  the  gift  thus  becomes,  as  soci- 
ety evolves,  the  originator  of  many  things. 

To  the  political  head,  as  his  power  grows,  presents  are 
prompted  j)artly  by  fear  of  him  and  partly  by  the  wish  for 
his  aid;  and  such  presents,  at  iirst  propitiatory  only  in  vir- 
tue of  their  intrinsic  worth,  gTow  to  be  propitiatory  as  ex- 
pressions of  loyalty:  from  the  last  of  wdiicli  comes  present- 
giving  as  a  ceremonial,  and  from  the  first  of  which  comes 
present-giving  as  tribute,  eventually  changing  into  taxes. 
Simultaneously,  the  supplies  of  food  &c.,  placed  on  the 
grave  of  the  dead  man  to  please  his  ghost,  developing;  into 
larger  and  repeated  ofierings  at  the  grave  of  the  distin- 
guished dead  .man,  and  becoming  at  length  sacrifices  on  the 
altar  of  the  god,  differentiate  in  an  analogous  way:  the 
present  of  meat,  drink,  or  clothes,  at  first  supposed  to  beget 
goodwill  because  actually  useful,  becomes,  by  implication, 
significant  of  allegiance.  Hence,  making  the  gift  grows 
into  an  act  of  worship  irrespective  of  the  value  of  the  thing 
given;  while,  as  affording  sustenance  to  the  priest,  the  gift 
makes  possible  the  agency  by  which  the  worship  is  con- 
ducted.    From  oblations  originate  Church  revenues. 

Thus  we  unexpectedly  come  upon  further  proof  that  the 
control  of  ceremony  precedes  the  political  and  ecclesiastical 


PRESENTS.  105 

controls;  since  it  appears  that  from  actions  which  the  first 
initiates,  eventually  result  the  funds  by  whicli  the  others 
are  maintained. 

When  we  ask  what  relations  present-giving  has  to  differ- 
ent social  types,  Ave  note,  in  the  first  place,  that  there  is  little 
of  it  in  simple  societies  where  chieftainship  does  not  exist 
or  is  unstable.  Conversely,  it  prevails  in  compound  and 
doublj^-compound  societies;  as  throughout  the  semi-civil- 
ized states  of  Africa,  those  of  Polynesia,  those  of  ancient 
America,  where  the  presence  of  stable  headships,  primary 
and  secondary,  gives  both  the  opportunity  and  the  motive. 
Recognizing  this  truth,  we  are  led  to  recognize  the 
deeper  truth  that  present-making,  while  but  indirectly  re- 
lated to  the  social  type  as  simple  or  compound,  is  directly 
related  to  it  as  more  or  less  militant  in  organization. 
The  desire  to  propitiate  is  great  in  proportion  as  the  per- 
son to  be  propitiated  is  feared;  and  therefore  the  con- 
quering chief,  and  still  more  the  king  who  has  made  him- 
self by  force  of  arms  ruler  over  many  chiefs,  is  one  whose 
goodwill  is  most  anxiously  sought  by  acts  which  simultane- 
ously gratify  his  avarice  and  express  submission.  Hence, 
then,  the  fact  that  the  ceremony  of  making  gifts  to  the 
ruler  prevails  most  in  societies  that  are  either  actually 
militant,  or  in  which  chronic  militancy  during  past  times 
has  evolved  the  des])otic  government  appropriate  to  it. 
Hence  the  fact  that  throughout  the  East  where  this  social 
type  exists  everywhere,  the  making  of  presents  to  those  in 
authority  is  everywhere  imperative.  Hence  the  fact  that  in 
early  European  ages,  while  the  social  activities  were  mili- 
tant and  the  structures  corresponded,  loyal  presents  to 
kings  from  individuals  and  corporate  bodies  were  univer- 
sal ;  while  donations  from  superiors  to  infei^ors,  also  grow- 
ing out  of  that  state  of  complete  dependence  which  accom- 
panied militancy,  were  common. 

The  like  connexion  holds  with  religious  offerings.  In 
the  extinct  militant  States  of  the  New  AVorld,  sacrifices 


106  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

to  gods  were  perpetual,  aiitl  their  shrines  were  being  ever 
enriched  by  deposited  valuables.  Papyri,  wall-paintings, 
and  sculptures,  show  us  that  among  ancient  Eastern  na- 
tions, highly  militant  in  their  activities  and  tyi)es  of  struc- 
ture, oblations  to  deities  were  large  and  continual;  and  that 
vast  amounts  of  property  were  devoted  to  making  their 
temples  glorious.  During  early  and  militant  times  through- 
out Europe,  gifts  to  God  and  the  Church  were  more  general 
and  extensive  than  they  are  in  our  relatively  industrial 
times.  It  is  observable,  too,  how,  even  now,  that  representa- 
tive of  the  j)rimitive  oblation  which  we  still  have  in  the 
bread  and  wine  of  the  mass  and  the  sacrament  (offered  to 
(lod  before  being  consumed  by  communicants),  recurs  less 
frequently  here  than  in  Catholic  societies,  w^hich  are  rela- 
tively more  militant  in  type  of  organization;  while  the 
offering  of  incense,  which  is  one  of  the  primitive  forms  of 
sacrifice  among  various  peoples  and  survives  in  the  Catholic 
service,  has  disappeared  from  the  authorized  service  in  Eng- 
land. Nor  in  our  own  society  do  we  fail  to  trace  a  kindred 
contrast.  For  while  within  the  Established  Church,  which 
forms  part  of  that  regulative  structure  developed  by  mili- 
tancy, sacrificial  observances  continue,  they  are  not  per- 
formed by  that  most  unecclesiastical  of  sects,  the  Quakers; 
who,  absolutely  unmilitant,  show  us  also  by  the  absence  of 
an  established  priesthood,  and,  by  the  democratic  form  of 
their  government,  the  type  of  organization  most  character- 
istic of  industrialism. 

The  like  holds  even  with  the  custom  of  present-giving 
for  purposes  of  social  propitiation.  We  see  this  on  com- 
paring European  nations,  which,  otherwise  much  upon  a  par 
in  their  stages  of  progress,  differ  in  the  degrees  to  which 
industrialism  has  (pialified  militancy.  In  Germany,  where 
periodic  making  of  gifts  among  relatives  and  friends  is  a 
universal  obligation,  and  tn  France,  where  the  burden 
similarly  entailed  is  so  onerous  that  at  the  !N^ew  Year  and  at 
Easter,  people  not  unfrequentlyileave  home  to  escape  it, 


PRESENTS.  107 

this  social  iisage  survives  in  gi'eater  strength  than  in  Eng- 
land, less  militant  in  organization. 

Of  this  kind  of  ceremony,  then,  as  of  the  kinds  already 
dealt  with,  we  may  say  that,  taking  shape  with  the  estab- 
lishment of  that  political  headship  which  militancy  pro- 
duces, it  develops  with  the  development  of  the  militant  type 
of  social  structure,  and  declines  with  the  development  of 
the  industrial  type. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VISITS. 

§  378.  One  may  go  to  the  house  of  a  blameworthy  man 
to  reproach  him,  or  to  that  of  an  inferior  who  is  in  trouble 
to  give  aid,  or  to  that  of  a  reputed  oddity  to  gratify 
curiosity:  a  visit  is  not  intrinsically  a  mark  of  homage. 
Visits  of  certain  kinds,  however,  become  extrinsically 
marks  of  homage.  In  its  primitive  form,  making  a  present 
implies  going  to  see  the  person  it  is  made  to.  Hence,  by  asso- 
ciation, this  act  conies  to  be  itself  indicative  of  respect,  and 
eventually  acquires  the  character  of  a  reverential  ceremony. 

From  this  it  results  that  just  as  the  once-voluntary  pres- 
ent grows  into  the  compulsory  present,  and  ends  in  tribute 
periodically  paid;  so  the  concomitant  visit  loses  its  volun- 
tary character,  and,  as  })olitical  supremacy  strengthens,  be- 
comes an  ex]>ression  of  subordination  demanded  by  the 
ruler  at  stat('(l  intervals. 

§  379.  Naturally  this  ceremony  takes  no  definite  shape 
where  chiefly  power  is  undecided ;  and  hence  is  not  usual  in 
simple  tribes.  Even  in  societies  ]iartially  compounded,  it 
characterizes  less  the  relations  between  the  connn<m  people 
and  the  rulers  next  above  tliem,  than  the  relations  between 
these  subordinate  rulers  and  sujXM-ior  rulers.  Still  there 
are  places  where  subjects  show  their  local  heads  the  consid- 
ei'ation  implied  by  this  act.  Some  of  the  (^oast  Negroes, 
the  JolofTs  for  example,  come  daily  to  iheir  village  chiefs 

108 


VISITS.  109 

to  salute  tliein;  and  aiuoiig  the  Kaffirs,  the  Great  Place 
(as  the  chief's  residence  is  termed)  is  the  resort  of  all  the 
princijoal  men  of  the  tribe,  who  attend  "  for  the  purpose  of 
paying  their  respects  to  the  chief." 

But,  as  just  implied,  the  visits  chiefly  to  be  noted  as 
elements  in  ceremonial  government,  are  those  which  sec- 
ondary rulers  and  officials  of  certain  grades  are  required  to 
pay.  In  a  compound  society  headed  by  a  chief  who  has 
been  victorious  over  other  chiefs,  there  arises  the  need 
for  periodic  demonstrations  of  allegiance.  Hal^itually  the 
central  ruler,  knowing  that  these  subjugated  local  rulers 
must  chafe  under  their  humiliation,  and  ever  suspecting 
conspiracies  among  them,  insists  on  their  frequently 
recurring  presence  at  his  place  of  residence.  He  thus 
satisfies  himself  in  two  ways:  he  receives  re-assurances  of 
loyalty  by  gifts  brought  and  homage  performed,  while  he 
gets  i^roof  that  his  guests  arc  not  then  engaged  in  trying 
to  throw  off  his  yoke. 

Hence  the  fact  that  in  compound  societies  the  periodic 
visit  to  the  king  is  a  political  ceremony.  Concerning  a 
conquered  ])e()ple  in  ancient  Peru,  we  read  that  the  Yncas 
"  ordered  that,  during  certain  months  in  the  year,  the  native 
chiefs  should  reside  at  the  court  of  Cuzco;  "  and,  speaking 
of  other  subordinate  rulers,  F.  de  Xeres  says — "  Some  of 
these  chiefs  [who  came  to  visit  Atahuallpa]  were  lords  of 
30,000  Indians,  all  subject  to  Atahuallpa."  In  ancient 
.Mexico  a  like  usage  is  shown  to  have  had  a  like  origin. 
From  the  chiefs  of  the  conquered  province  of  Clialco, 
certain  indications  of  submission  were  required;  and 
"  Montezuma  II.  asked  them,  besides,  to  come  to  ]\Iexico 
twice  a-year,  and  so  take  part  in  the  festivals."  Africa  in 
our  own  day  furnishes  an  illustration  showing  at  once  the 
motive  for  the  usage  and  the  reluctant  feeling  with  which  it 
is  sometimes  conformed  to.    In  Ashantce, 

"  At  that  great  annual  festival  [the  yam-custom]  all  the  caboceers 
and  captains,  and  tlie  greater  number  of  the  tributary  kings  or  chiefs, 


110  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

are  expected  to  appear  in  tlie  capital.  .  .  .  Sometimes  a  chief  who 
suspects  that  he  has  become  obnoxious  to  the  king,  will  not  trust 
himself  in  the  capital  without  tlie  means  of  defence  or  intimidation." 
Further,  as  showing  how  in  Africa  the  visit  is  a  recognized 
expression  of  subordination,  we  liave  the  fact  that  "  it  is  not 
'  etiquette  '  for  the  king  of  iJahoniev  to  visit  even  his  liigh- 
est  officers."  And  then  Madagascar  and  Siani  yield  in- 
stances in  which  the  political  meaning  of  the  visit  is  shown 
by  making  it  to  a  proxy  ruler.  Ellis  mentions  certain 
Malagasy  chiefs  as  "  going  to  the  residence  of  the  governor, 
to  present  their  homage  to  the  sovereign's  representative, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  country  at  this  season;" 
and,  speaking  of  the  "  thirteen  other  kings  "  in  his  domin- 
ions who  every  year  ])ay  tribute  to  the  king  of  Siam,  Bow- 
ring  quotes  evidence  that  "  formerly  the}'  used  to  come  to 
the  city  of  Odiaa  to  make  their  sumbaya  (which  was  to  kiss 
the  sword  of  their  Grand  Seiior);  and  now,  by  the  Royal 
command,  they  come  to  make  it  before  his  viceroy."  Writ- 
ing in  the  seventeenth  century,  Tavernier  describes  the 
extreme  to  which  this  kind  of  ceremony  was  carried  in  the 
empire  of  the  Mogul.  "  All  those  that  are  at  Court  are 
oblig'd,  under  a  considerable  Penalty,  to  come  twice  every 
day  to  salute  the  King  in  the  Assembly,  once  about  ten  or 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  wdien  he  renders  justice; 
and  the  second  time  about  six  hours  at  night."  And  such 
scepticism  as  we  might  reasonably  feel  concerning  this 
statement,  is  removed  on  finding  that  at  the  present  time 
in  Jummoo  and  Kashmir,  the  Maharaja  receives  bi-diurnal 
visits  from  "  all  of  a  certain  standing."  Till  lately,  Ja]ian 
fiu*nishes  various  illustrations  of  the  usage  and  its  mean- 
ings. There  was  the  yearly  visit  made  by  the  secular 
monarch  to  the  ^likado,  originally  in  person  and  then  by 
proxy;  there  were  the  yearly  visits  of  the  nobles  to  court — 
the  superior  ones  doing  homage  to  the  emperor  himself  and 
the  inferior  ones  to  his  ministers;  and,  still  more  signifi- 
cantly, there  were  the  recurring  migrations  of  certain  lords. 


VISITS.  Ill 

the  Siomio,  who  were  "  allowed  but  six  months  stay  in  their 
hereditary  dominions ;  the  other  half-year  they  mnst  spend 
in  the  imperial  capital,  Jedo,  where  their  wives  and  fam- 
ilies are  kept  all  the  year  round  as  hostages  of  their  fidel- 
ity." 

How  in  feudal  Europe  like  customs  arose  from  like 
causes,  the  reader  will  need  only  to  be  reminded.  Periodical 
visits  were  made  by  vassals  to  their  suzerains  and  by  these  to 
their  higher  suzerains — the  kings;  prolonged  residences  at 
places  of  government  grew  out  of  these  periodical  visits ;  and 
the  payment  of  such  visits  having  come  to  be  a  recognized 
expression  of  allegiance,  absence  on  the  appointed  occasions 
was  considered  a  sign  of  insubordination.  As  saj's  de 
Tocqueville,  giving  an  interpretation  which  partially  recog- 
nizes the  origin  of  the  usage: — 

"  The  abandonment  of  a  country  life  by  the  nobility  [in  France] 
.  .  .  was,  no  doubt,  an  idea  almost  always  pursued  by  the  kings  of 
France,  during  the  three  last  centuries  of  the  monarchy,  to  separate 
the  gentry  from  the  people,  and  to  attract  the  former  to  Court  and  to 
public  employments.  This  was  especially  the  case  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  when  the  nobility  were  still  an  object  of  fear  to  royalty." 
To  which  facts  add  that  among  ourselves  down  to  the  pres- 
ent day,  going  to  court  at  intervals,  expected  specially  of  all 
who  hold  ofiicial  positions  above  a  certain  grade,  and  ex- 
pected generally  of  members  of  the  governing  classes,  is 
taken  as  an  expression  of  loyalty;  and  continued  absence  is 
interpreted  as  a  mark  of  disrespect,  bringing  disfavour. 

§  380.  In  the  last  chapter  we  saw  that  to  deceased  persons 
as  well  as  to  living  persons,  propitiatory  presents  are  made. 
"VVe  have  now  to  observe  that  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other 
visits  are  entailed. 

As  in  primitive  beliefs,  the  powers  of  men's  ghosts  arc 
greater  than  were  those  of  the  men  themselves,  it  results 
that  present-making  visits  to  the  dead  begin  even  earlier 
than  do  those  to  the  living.     In  §  83  it  was  shown  that 


112  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

amoiiji-  the  Innuits  (Esqiiiinanx),  wlio  liavo  no  cliicfs,  and 
therefore  no  visits  expressing-  political  allegiance,  there  arc 
occasional  jonrnevs  with  gifts  to  the  graves  of  departed 
r.clati(^ns.  In  §  85  instances  of  such  periodic  journeys  per- 
formed by  various  peoples,  savage  and  senu-civilized,  were 
given.  And  in  §  144  wo  saw  how,  in  subsequent  stages, 
these  grow  into  quasi-religious  and  religious  pilgrimages. 

Here,  from  the  usages  of  more  advanced  peoples,  may 
be  g-iven  two  examples  showing  how  close  is  the  relation 
between  these  visits  paid  to  the  deified  and  undeified  dead, 
and  visits  paid  to  the  living.  Describing  the  observances 
on  All  Saints'  Day  in  Spain,  Rose  writes — "  This  festival  is 
observed  for  three  days,  and  .  .  .  the  streets  are  tilled  with 
holiday-makers.  Yet  none  of  these  forget  to  walk  down  to 
the  house  of  their  dead,  and  gaze  on  it  with  respect."  And 
then  in  Japan,  where  sacred  and  secular  are  but  little  differ- 
entiated, these  visits  made  to  gods,  ancestors,  superiors,  and 
equals,  arc  intimately  associated.     Says  Kopmpfer: — 

"Their  festivals  and  holidays  are  days  sacred  rather  to  mutual 
compliments  and  civilities,  than  to  acts  of  holiness  and  devotion,  for 
Avliich  reason  they  call  them  also  rebis,  which  implies  as  much  as  vis- 
iting days.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  they  think  it  a  duty  incumbent 
on  them,  on  those  days,  to  go  to  the  temple  of  Tensio  Dai  Sin,  the 
first  and  principal  object  of  their  worship,  and  the  temples  of  tiieir 
other  gods  and  deceased  great  men.  .  .  .  Yet  the  best  part  of  their 
time  is  spent  with  visiting  and  complimenting  their  superiors,  friends, 
and  relations.'' 

As  further  proving  how  important  in  sujior-ceremonious 
Japan  is  the  visit  as  a  mark  of  subordination,  while  it  also 
discloses  a  curious  sequence  from  tlio  Japanese  theory  that 
their  sacred  monarch  rules  the  other  world  as  well  as  this 
world,  let  mo  add  an  extract  showing  that  the  gods  them- 
selves pay  visits. 

"  All  the  other  kamis  or  gods  of  the  country  are  under  nn  obliga- 
tion to  visit  him  [the  Mikado,  the  living  kami]  once  a  year,  and  to 
wait  upon  his  sacred  person,  though  in  an  invisible  manner,  during 
the  tenth  month  .   .  .  which  is  by  them  called  Kaminatsuki,  that  is, 


VISITS.  113 

the  month  without  gods  .  .   .  because  the  gods  are  supposed  not  to 
be  at  home  in  their  temples,  but  at  court  waiting  upon  their  Dairi." 

These  and  many  kindred  facts  force  on  us  the  conchision 
that  from  propitiatory  visits,  now  to  the  living  and  now  to 
the  dead,  have  been  developed  those  visits  of  worship  which 
we  class  as  religious.  When  we  watch  in  a  continental 
cemetery,  relatives  periodically  coming  to  hang  fresh  im- 
inortelles  round  tond)s,  and  observe  how  the  decayed 
wreaths  on  unvisitcd  tombs  are  taken  to  imply  lack  of  re- 
spect for  the  dead — when  we  remember  how^  in  Catholic 
countries  journeys  are  made  with  kindred  feelings  to  the 
shrines  of  semi-deified  men  called  saints — when  we  note  that 
between  pilgrimages  of  this  kind  and  pilgrimages  made  in 
days  gone  by  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  the  differences  are  sim- 
}dy  between  the  distances  travelled  and  the  ascribed  degTees 
of  holiness  of  the  places;  we  see  that  the  primitive  man's 
visit  to  the  grave,  where  the  ghost  is  supposed  to  reside,  orig- 
inates the  visit  to  the  temple  regarded  as  the  residence  of  the 
god,  and  that  both  are  allied  to  visits  of  reverence  to  the  liv- 
ing. Remote  as  appear  the  going  to  church  and  the  going  to 
court,  they  are  divergent  forms  of  the  same  thing.  That 
which  once  linked  the  two  has  now  almost  lapsed;  but  we 
need  only  go  back  to  early  times,  when  a  journey  to  the 
aboSe  of  a  living  superior  had  the  purpose  of  carrying  a 
present,  doing  homage,  and  expressing  submission,  while 
the  journey  to  a  temple  was  made  for  ottering  oblations, 
professing  obedience,  uttering  praises,  to  recognize  the 
parallelism.  Before  the  higher  creeds  arose,  the  unseen 
ruler  visited  by  the  religious  worshipper  was  supposed  to  be 
j)resent  in  his  temple,  just  as  much  as  was  the  seen  ruler 
visited  at  his  court;  and  tliough  now  the  presence  of  the 
unseen  ruler  in  his  temple  is  conceived  in  a  vaguer  way,  ho 
is  still  supposed  to  be  in  closer  proximity  than  usual. 

§  381.  As  with  other  ceremonies  so  ^^dtll  this  ceremony. 
"W^iat  begins  as  a  propitiation  of  the  most  powerful  man 


114  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

— now  living,  now  dead,  now  apotheosized — extends 
as  a  propitiation  of  men  who  are  less  powerful;  and, 
continuing  to  spread,  finally  becomes  a  propitiation  of 
equals. 

How,  as  tacitly  expressing  subordination,  the  visit  comes 
to  be  looked  for  by  one  who  claims  superiority,  and  to  be 
recognized  as  an  admission  of  inferiority  by  one  who  pays 
it,  is  well  shown  in  a  story  whitdi  Palgrave  narrates.  Fey- 
sul,  king  of  the  Wahhabees,  ordered  his  son  Sa'ood  to  pay  a 
visit  to  Abd- Allah,  an  elder  brother.  *'  '  I  am  the  stranger 
guest,  w'hile  he  is  an  inhabitant  of  the  town,'  replied 
Sa'ood,  '  and  it  is  accordingly  his  duty  to  call  lirst  on 
me.'  "...  Feysnl  entreated  Abd-Allah  ''  to  fultil  the 
obligation  of  a  first  visit.  But  the  elder  son  proved  no  less 
intractable." 

Peo])les  in  various  i)arts  of  the  world  supply  facts  having 
kindred  meanings.  The  old  traveller  Tavernier,  writes  that 
"  the  Persians  are  very  much  accustom'd  to  make  mutual 
Visits  one  to  another  at  their  solemn  Festivals.  The  more 
noble  sort  stay  at  home  to  expect  the  Visits  of  their  In- 
feriors." So  in  Africa.  Of  a  rich  Indian  trader,  living 
at  Unyanyembe,  Grant  says — "  Moosah  sat  from  morn  till 
night  .  .  .  receiving  salutes  and  compliments  from  the  ^'ich 
and  poor,"  Passing  to  JCurope  we  have,  in  ancient  Rome, 
the  morning  calls  of  clients  on  their  patrons.  Anil  in  an  old 
French  book  of  manners  translated  into  English  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  ^ve  read — "  A  great  ])erson  is  to  be  visited 
often,  and  his  health  to  be  inquir'd  after." 

These  instances  sufficiently  indicate  that  gradual  de- 
scent of  the  visit  of  ceremony  which  has  finally  brought  it 
down  to  an  ordinary  civility — a  civility  which,  however,  still 
bears  traces  of  its  origin;  sinc(^  it  is  regarded  more  as  due 
from  an  inferior  to  a  su])erior  than  conversely,  and  is  taken 
as  a  condescension  when  j)aid  by  a  superior  to  an  inf(M-ior. 
Evidently  the  morning  call  is  a  remote  se(|uence  of  that 
system  under  which  a  subordinate  ruler  had  from  time  to 


VISITS.  115 

time  to  show  lojaltv  to  a  chief  ruler  by  i^resenting  himself 
to  do  homage. 

§  382.  In  this  case  as  in  preceding  cases,  we  have,  lastly, 
to  note  the  relations  between  visit-making  and  types  of 
social  organization. 

That  in  simple  tribes  without  settled  headships,  it  cannot 
become  a  political  ceremony  is  obvious;  and  that  it  begins 
to  prevail  in  societies  compounded  to  the  second  and  third 
degrees,  the  evidence  clearly  shows.  As  before,  however, 
so  now,  we  find  on  grouping  and  comparing  the  facts  that 
it  is  not  so  much  with  the  size  of  the  society  as  with  its 
structure,  that  this  ceremony  is  connected.  Being  one  of 
the  expressions  of  obedience,  it  is  associated  with  develop- 
ment of  the  militant  organization.  Hence  as  proved  by  the 
instances  given,  it  grows  into  a  conspicuous  element  of  cere- 
monial rule  in  nations  which  are  under  those  despotic  forms 
of  government  which  militancy  produces — ancient  Mexico 
and  ancient  Peru  in  the  Xew  World,  China  and  Japan  in 
the  East.  And  the  earlier  stages  of  European  societies  ex- 
emplified the  relation. 

The  converse  relation  is  no  less  manifest.  Among  our- 
selves, characterized  as  we  now  are  by  predominance  of 
industrialism  over  militancy,  the  visit  as  a  manifestation  of 
loyalty  is  no  longer  imperative.  And  in  the  substitution  of 
cards  for  calls,  we  may  observe  a  growing  tendency  to  dis- 
pense with  it  as  a  formality  of  social  intercourse. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

OBEISANCES. 

§  383.  CoiicorninG;  a  party  of  Shoslionos  snrprisod  by 
them,  Lewis  and  (^larke  write — "  The  other  two,  an  elderly 
Avoinan  and  a  litle  girl,  seeing  we  were  too  near  for  them  to 
eseape,  sat  on  the  gronnd,  and  holding  down  their  heads 
seemed  as  if  reeonciled  to  the  death  which  they  snp])osed 
awaited  them.  The|6ame  habit  of  holding  down  the  head 
and  inviting  the  enemy  to  strike,  when  all  chance  of  escape 
is  gone,  is  preserved  in  Egypt  to  this  day."  Here  we  are 
shown  an  effort  to  ])ropitiate  by  absolute  submission;  and 
from  acts  so  prompted  originate  obeisances. 

When,  at  the  outset,  in  illustration  of  the  truth  that 
ceremony  precedes  not  only  social  evolution  but  Innnan 
evolution,  I  named  the  behaviour  of  a  small  dog  which 
throws  itself  on  its  back  in  presence  of  an  alarming  great 
dog,  probably  many  readers  thought  I  was  ]uitting  on  this 
T)ehaviour  a  forced  construction.  They  would  not  have 
thought  so  had  they  known  that  a  ])arallel  mode  of  beha- 
"\dour  occurs  among  human  beings.  Livingstone  says  of  the 
Batoka  salutation — "  they  throw  themselves  on  their  backs 
on  the  ground,  and,  rolling  from  side  to  side,  slaj)  the  out- 
side of  their  thighs  as  expressions  of  thankfulness  and 
Avelcome."  The  assumption  of  this  attitude,  which  implies 
— "  You  need  not  subdue  me,  I  am  subdued  already,"  is 
the  best  means  of  obtaining  safety.  Resistance  arouses  the 
destructive  instincts;  and  ])rostration  (ni   ihc  back   nega- 

IIG 


OBEISANCES.  117 

tives  resistance.  Another  attitude  equally  helpless,  more 
elaborately  displays  subjugation.  "  At  Tonga  Tabu  .  .  . 
the  common  people  show  their  great  chief  .  .  .  the  greatest 
respect  imaginable  by  prostrating  themselves  before  him, 
and  by  putting  his  foot  on  their  necks."  The  like  occurs  in 
Africa.  Laird  says  the  messengers  from  the  king  of  Fundah 
"  each  bent  down  and  put  my  foot  on  their  heads."  And 
among  historic  peoples  this  position,  originated  by  defeat, 
became  a  position  assumed  in  acknowledging  submission. 

From  such  primary  obeisances  representing  completely 
the  attitudes  of  the  conquered  beneath  the  conqueror,  there 
come  obeisances  which  express  in  various- ways  the  subjec- 
tion of  the  slave  to  the  master.  Of  old  in  the  East  this 
subjection  was  expressed  when  "  Ben-hadad's  servants 
girded  sackcloth  on  their  loins,  and  put  ropes  on  their  heads, 
and  came  to  the  king  of  Israel."  In  Peru,  where  the 
militant  type  of  organization  was  pushed  so  far,  a  sign  of 
humility  was, to  have  the  hands  tied  and  a  rope  round  the 
neck.  In  both  cases  there  was  an  assumption  of  those 
bonds  which  originally  marked  captives  brought  from  the 
battle-field.  Along  with  this  mode  of  simulating  slavery 
to  the  Ynca,  another  mode  was  employed.  Servitude  had  to 
be  indicated  by  carrying  a  burden;  and  "  this  taking  up  a 
load  to  enter  the  presence  of  Atahuallpa,  is  a  ceremony 
which  was  performed  by  all  the  lords  who  have  reigned  in 
that  land." 

These  extreme  instances  I  give  at  the  outset  by  way  of 
showing  the  natural  genesis  of  the  obeisance  as  a  means  of 
obtaining  mercy;  first  from  a  victor  and  then  from  a  ruler. 
A  full  conception  of  the  obeisance,  however,  includes  an- 
other element.  In  the  introductory  chapter  it  was  pointed 
out  that  sundi-y  signs  of  pleasure,  having  a  physio-psycho- 
logical origin,  which  occur  in  presence  of  those  for  whom 
there  is  affection,  pass  into  complimentary  observances;  be- 
cause men  are  ]:»leased  by  supposing  themselves  liked,  and 
are  therefoj-c  pleased  by  demonstrations  of  liking.  So  that 
60  "^ 


118  CfeREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

wliilo  trying  to  propitiate  a  superior  by  expressing  submis- 
sion to  liini,  there  is  generally  an  endeavour  further  to  pro- 
pitiate him  by  showing  joy  at  his  presence.  Keeping  in 
view  both  these  elements  of  the  obeisance,  let  us  now  con- 
sider its  varieties;  with  their  political,  religious,  and  social 
uses. 

§  884.  Tliough  the  loss  of  poAwr  to  resist  which  prostra- 
tion on  the  face  implies,  does  not  reach  the  utter  defenceless- 
ness  implied  by  prostration  on  the  back,  yet  it  is  great 
enough  to  make  it  a  sign  of  profound  homage;  and  hence 
it  occurs  as  an  obeisance  wherever  despotism  is  unmitigated 
and  subordination  slavish.  In  ancient  America,  before  a 
Chibcha  cazique,  "  people  had  to  appear  prostrate  and  with 
their  faces  touching  the  ground."  In  Africa,  '*  when  he 
addresses  the  king,  a  Borghoo  man  stretches  himself  on  the 
earth  as  flat  as  a  flounder."  Asia  furnishes  many  instances. 
"  When  preferring  a  complaint,  a  Khond  or  Panoo  will 
throw  himself  on  his  face  with  his  hands  joined;  "  and 
while,  in  Siam,  "  before  the  nobles  all  subordinates  are  in  a 
state  of  reverent  prostration,  the  nobles  themselves,  in  the 
presence  of  the  sovereign,  exhibit  the  same  crawling  obei- 
sance." Similarly  in  Polynesia.  Falling  on  the  face  was  a 
mark  of  submission  among  the  Sandwich  Islanders:  the 
king  did  so  to  Cook  when  he  first  met  him.  And  in  the  rec- 
ords of  ancient  historic  peoples  kindrcVl  illustrations  are 
given ;  as  when  IMephibosheth  fell  on  his  face  and  did  rever- 
ence before  David;  or  as  when  the  king  of  Bithynia  fell  on 
his  face  before  the  Roman  senate.  In  some  cases  this  atti- 
tude of  the  conquered  before  the  conqueror,  has  its  meaning 
emj)hasized  by  repetition.  Bootan  supplies  an  instance: — 
"  They  .  .  .  made  before  the  Raja  nine  prostrations,  which 
is  the  obeisance  paid  to  him  l)y  his  subjects  whenever  they 
are  permitted  to  approach." 

Every  kind  of  ceremony  is  a])t  to  have  its  primitive 
character   obscured    by    abridgment;   and    by    abridgment 


OBEISANCES.  119 

this  profoundest  of  obeisances  is  rendered  a  less  profound 
one.  In  performing  a  full-length  prostration  there  is 
passed  through  an  attitude  in  which  the  body  is  on  the 
knees  with  the  head  on  tlie  ground;  and  to  rise,  it  is  needful 
to  draw  up  the  knees  before  raising  the  head  and  getting 
on  the  feet.  Hence  this  attitude  may  be  considered  as  an 
incomplete  prostration.  It  is  a  very  gt>neral  one.  Among 
tlie  Coast  N'egroes,  if  a  native  "  goes  to  vjsit  his  superior,  or 
meets  him  by  chance,  he  immediately  falls  on  his  knees, 
and  thrice  successively  kisses  the  earth."  In  acknowl- 
ment  of  his  inferiority,  the  king  of  the  Brass  people  never 
spoke  to  the  king  of  the  Ibos  "  mthout  going  down  on  his 
knees  and  touching  the  ground  with  his  head."  At  Em- 
bomma,  on  the  Congo,  "  the  mode  of  salutation  is  by  gently 
clapping  the  hands,  and  an  inferior  at  the  same  time  goes 
on  his  knees  and' kisses  the  bracelet  on  the  superior's  ancle." 

Often  the  humility  of  this  obeis^ce.  is  increased  by 
emphasizing  the  contact  with  the  earth.  On  the  lower 
Niger,  "  as  a  mark  of  great  respect,  men  prostrate  them- 
selves, and  strike  their  heads  against  the  ground."  When, 
in  past  ages,  the  Emperor  of  Russia  was  crowned,  the  nobil- 
ity did  homage  by  ''  bending  down  their  heads,  and  knock- 
ing them  at  his  feet  to  the  very  ground."  In  China  at  the 
present  time,  among  the  eight  kinds  of  obeisances,  increas- 
ing in  humility,  the  fifth  is  kneeling  and  striking  the  head 
on  the  ground;  the  sixtli,  kneeling  and  thrice  knocking  the 
head,  which  again  doubled  makes  the  seventh,  and  trebled, 
the  eighth:  this  last  being  due  to  the  Emperor  and  to 
Heaven.  Among  the  Hebrews,  repetition  had  a  kindred 
meaning.  "  Jacob  bowed  himself  to  the  ground  seven 
timen,  until  he  came  near  to  his  brother." 

Naturally  this  attitude  of  the  conquered  man,  used  by 
the  slave  before  his  master  and  the  subject  before  his  ruler, 
becomes  that  of  the  worshipper  before  his  deity.  AVe  find 
complete  prostrations  made  whether  the  being  to  be  propiti- 
ated is  visible  or  invisible.     "  Abraham  fell  upon  his  face  " 


120  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

before  God  wlion  lio  eov(MiantiH]  with  him;  "  Xebuohadnez- 
zar  fell  upon  his  face  and  worshipped  Daniel;  "  and  \\\wn 
Kebnchaihiezzar  set  nj>  a  golden  iniage  there  was  a  threat 
of  death  on  "  whoso  falleth  not  down  and  worshi])i)eth." 
ISiniilarly,  the  incomplete  prostration  in  j^resence  of  king's 
rcc-nrs  in  ])resence  of  deities.  When  making  obeisances  to 
tlieir  idols,  the  ]\Iongols  touch  the  gronnd  withthe  forehead. 
The  Japanese  in  their  temples  "  fall  down  npon  their  knees, 
bow  their  head  (piite  to  the  gronnd,  slowly  and  with  great 
humility."  And  sketches  of  Mahommedans  at  their  devo- 
tions familiarize  us  with  a  like  attitude. 

§  385.  From  the  positions  of  prostration  on  back  or 
face,  and  of  semi-prostration  on  knees,  we  pass  to  sundry  oth- 
ers; which,  however,  continue  to  imply  relative  inability  to 
resist.  In  some  cases  it  is  pennissible  to  vary  the  attitude,  as 
in  Dahomey,  where  "  the  highest  officers  lie  before  the  king- 
in  the  position  of  Tfomans  ujion  the  triclinium,.  At  times 
they  roll  over  ui)on  their  bellies,  or  relieve  themselves  by 
standing  '  on  all  fours.'  "  Duran  states  that  "  cowering  .  .  . 
was,  with  the  ^fexicans,  the  ])Osture  of  res])ect,  as  with  us  is 
genuflexion."  C^rouching  shows  homage  among  the  Xew 
Caledonians;  as  it  does  in  Fiji,  and  in  Tahiti. 

Other  changes  in  attitudes  of  this  class  are  entailed  by 
the  necessities  of  locomotion.  In  Dahomey  "  when  ap- 
proaching royalty  they  either  crawl  like  snakes  or  shuffle 
forward  on  their  knees."  When  changing  their  places  be- 
fore a  superior,  the  Siamese  "  drag  themselves  on  their 
hands  and  knees."  In  Java  an  inferior  must  "  walk  with 
his  hams  upon  his  heels  until  he  is  out  of  his  superior's 
sight."  Similarly  with  the  subjects  of  a  Zulu  king — even 
M'ith  his  wives.  And  in  Loango,  extension  of  this  attitude 
to  the  household  appears  not  to  be  limited  to  the  court: 
wives  in  general  ''  dare  not  speak  to  them  |  their  husbands] 
but  upon  their  bare  knees,  and  in  meeting  them  must  creep 
upon  their  hands."     A  neighbouring  state  furnishes  an  in- 


OBEISANCES.  121 

stance  of  gradation  in  these  forms  of  partial  prostration ;  and 
a  recognized  meaning  in  the  gradation.  The  Dakro,  a 
woman  who  bears  messages  from  the  Dahoman  King  to  the 
Men,  goes  on  all  fonrs  before  the  king;  and  "  as  a  rnle  she 
goes  on  all  fours  to  the  Men,  and  only  kneels  to  smaller  men, 
who  become  (juadrnpeds  to  her." 

Here  we  x-ome,  incidentally,  upon  a  further  abridgment 
of  the  original  prostration;  whence  resnlts  one  of  the  most 
widely-spread  obeisances.  As  from  the  entirely  prone 
posture  we  pass  to  the  posture  of  the  Mahommedan  worship- 
per with  forehead  on  the  ground ;  so  from  this  we  pass  to  the 
posture  on  all  fours,  and  from  this,  by  raising  the  body,  to 
simple  kneeling.  That  kneeling  is,  and  has  been  in  count- 
less places  and  times,  a  form  of  political  homage,  a  form  of 
domestic  homage,  and  a  form  of  religious  homage,  needs  no 
showing.  We  will  note  only  that  it  is,  and  has  been,  in  all 
cases  associated  with  coercive  government;  as  in  Africa, 
where  "  by  thus  constantly  practising  genuflexion  upon  the 
hard  gronnd,  their  [the  Dahomans']  knees  in  time  become 
almost  as  hard  as  their  heels;  "  as  in  Japan,  where  "on 
leaving  the  presence  of  the  Emperor,  officers  walk  back- 
wards on  their  knees;  "  as  in  China,  "  where  the  Viceroy's 
children  ...  as  they  passed  by  their  father's  tent,  fell  on 
tlieir  knees  and  bowed  three  times,  with  their  faces  towards 
the  ground ;  "  and  as  in  mediaeval  Europe,  where  serfs  knelt 
to  their  masters  and  feudal  vassals  to  their  suzerains. 

J^ot  dwelling  on  the  transition  from  descent  on  both 
knees  to  descent  on  one  knee,  which,  less  abject,  comes  a 
stage  nearer  the  erect  attitude,  it  will  suffice  to  note  the 
transition  from  kneeling  on  one  knee  to  bending  the  knee. 
That  this  form  of  obeisance  is  an  abridgment,  is  well  shown 
us  by  the  Japanese. 

"  On  meeting,  they  show  respect  by  bending  the  knee;  and  when 
they  wish  to  do  unusual  honour  to  an  individual  they  place  them- 
seLves  on  the  knee  and  bow  down  to  the  ground.  But  this  is  never 
done  in  the  streets,  where  they  merely  make  a  motion  as  if  they  were 


122  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

going  to  knccl.  AVhcn  they  salute  a  person  of  rank,  thoy  bend  the 
knee  in  such  a  manner  as  to  touch  the  ground  with  their  lingers." 
We  are  shown  the  same  thing  equally  well,  or  better,  in 
China;  where,  among  the  speeified  gradations  of  obei- 
sance, the  third  is  defined  as  bending  the  knee,  and  the 
fourth  as  actual  kneeling.  Manifestly  that  which  still  sur- 
vives among  ourselves  as  the  curtesy  with  the  one  sex,  and 
that  which  until  recently  survived  with  the  other  sex  as  the 
scrape  (made  by  a  backward  sweep  of  the  right  foot),  are 
both  of  them  vanishing  forms  of  the  going  down  on  one 
knee. 

There  remains  only  the  accompanying  bend  of  the  body. 
This,  while  the  first  motion  passed  through  in  making  a 
complete  prostration,  is  also  the  last  motion  that  survives  as 
the  prostration  becomes  stage  by  stage  abridged.  In 
various  places  we  meet  indications  of  this  transition. 
"  Among  the  Soosoos,  even  the  wives  of  a  great  man,  when 
speaking  to  him,  bend  their  bodies,  and  place  one  hand  upon 
each  knee;  this  is  done  also  when  passing  by."  In  Samoa, 
"  in  passing  through  a  room  where  a  chief  is  sitting,  it  is 
disrespectful  to  walk  erect;  the  person  must  pass  along 
with  his  body  bent  downwards."  Of  the  ancient  Mexicans 
who,  during  an  assembly,  crouched  before  their  chief,  wo 
read  that  "  when  they  retired,  it  was  done  with  the  head 
lowered."  And  then  in  the  Chinese  ritual  of  ceremony, 
obeisance  number  two,  less  humble  than  bending  the  knee, 
is  bowing  low  w'ith  the  hands  joined.  Bearing  in  mind 
that  thei-e  are  insensible  transitions  between  the  humble 
salaam  of  the  Hindoo,  the  profound  bow  which  in  Europe 
shows  great  respect,  and  the  moderate  bend  of  the  head 
expressive  of  consideration,  we  cannot  doubt  that  the  famil- 
iar and  sometimes  scarcely-perceptible  nod,  is  the  last  trace 
of  the  prostration. 

These  several  abridgments  of  the  prostration  which 
we  see  occur  in  doing  political  homage  and  social  hom- 
age, occur  also  in  doing  religious  homage.     Of  the  Con- 


OBEISANCES.  123 

goese  Bastian  sajs  that  when  tliej  have  to  speak  to  a  supe- 
rior— 

"They  kneel,  turn  the  face  half  aside,  and  stretch  out  the  hands 
towards  the  person  addressed,  which  they  strike  together  at  every 
address.  They  might  have  sat  as  models  to  the  Egyptian  priests 
when  making  the  representations  on  the  temple  walls,  so  striking  is 
the  resemblance  between  what  is  represented  there  and  what  actually 
takes  place  here." 

And  we  niaj  note  kindred  parallelisms  in  European  relig- 
ious observances.  There  is  the  going  on  both  knees  and  the 
going  on  one  knee ;  and  there  are  the  bowings  and  curtesy- 
ings  on  certain  occasions  at  the  name  of  Christ. 

§  386.  As  already  explained,  along  with  the  act  express- 
ing humility,  the  complete  obeisance  includes  some  act  ex- 
pressing gratification.  To  propitiate  the  superior  effectually 
it  is  needful  at  once  to  imply — "  I  am  your  slave,"  and — 
"  I  love  you." 

Certain  of  the  instances  cited  above  have  exemplified 
the  union  of  these  two  factors.  Along  with  the  attitude  of 
abject  submission  assiuned  by  the  Batoka,  we  saw  that 
there  go  rhythmic  blows  of  the  hands  against  the  thighs. 
In  some  of  the  cases  named,  clapping  of  the  hands,  also 
indicating  joy,  was  described  as  being  an  accompaniment  of 
movements  showing  subjection;  and  many  others  may  be 
added.  Nobles  who  approach  the  king  of  Loango,  "  clap 
their  hands  two  or  three  times,  and  then  cast  themselves  at 
his  majesty's  feet  into  the  sand."  Speke  says  of  certain 
attendants  of  the  king  of  Uganda,  that  they  "  threw 
themselves  in  line  upon  their  bellies,  and,  wriggling  like 
fish  .  .  .  whilst  they  continued  floundering,  kicking  about 
their  legs,  ru})bing  their  faces,  and  patting  their  hands 
upon  the  ground."  Going  on  their  knees  to  superiors,  the 
Balonda  "  continue  the  salutation  of  clapping  the  hands 
until  the  great  ones  have  passed;  "  and  a  like  use  of  the 
hands  occurs  in  Dahomey.  A  further  rhythmical 


124:  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

luoveincnt  luniiig'  like  iiK'auing  iinist  be  atUled.  Already 
we  have  seen  that  jiiinpiiig,  as  a  natural  sign  of  delight,  is  a 
friendly  salute  among  the  Fuegians,  and  that  it  recurs  in 
Loango  as  a  mark  of  respect  to  the  king.  .Vfrica  furnishes 
another  instance.  Grant  narrates  that  the  king  of  Karague 
"  received  the  salutations  of  his  people,  who,  one  by  one, 
shrieked  and  sprang  in  front  of  him,  swearing  allegiance." 
Let  such  saltatory  movements  be  systematized,  as  they  are 
likely  to  be  during  social  progress,  and  they  will  constitute 
tlic  dancing  with  which  a  ruler  is  sometimes  saluted;  as  in 
the  before-named  case  of  the  king  of  Bogota,  and  as  in  the 
case  Williams  gives  in  his  account  of  Fiji,  where  an  inferior 
chief  and  his  suite,  entering  the  royal  presence,  "  per- 
formed a  dance,  which  they  finished  by  presenting  their 
clubs  and  upper  dresses  to  the  Somo-Somo  king." 

Of  the  other  siuuilated  signs  of  pleasure  commonly 
forming  part  of  the  obeisance,  kissing  is  the  most  conspicu- 
ous. This,  of  course,  has  to  take  such  form  as  consists  with 
the  humility  of  the  prostration  or  kindred  attitude.  As 
shown  in  certain  foregoing  instances,  we  have  kissing  the 
earth  when  the  superior  cannot  be  approached  close  enough 
for  kissing  the  feet  or  the  garment.  Others  may  be  added. 
"  It  is  the  custom  at  Eboe,  when  the  king  is  out,  and  indeed 
indoors  as  well,  for  the  ])riiu'ijial  people  to  kneel  on  the 
ground  and  kiss  it  three  times  when  he  passes;  "  and  the 
ancient  ^Mexican  ambassadors,  on  coming  to  Cortes,  "  first 
touched  the  ground  with  their  hands  and  then  kissed  it." 
This,  in  the  ancient  East,  ex})ressed  submission  of  con- 
quered to  conqueror;  and  is  said  to  have  gone  as  far  as  kiss- 
ing the  footmarks  of  the  conqueror's  horse.  Abyssinia, 
where  the  despotism  is  extreme  and  the  obeisances  servile, 
supplies  a  modification.  In  Shoa,  kissing  the  nearest  inani- 
mate object  belonging  to  a  superior  or  a  benefactor,  is  a 
sign  of  respect  and  thanks.  From  this  we  pass  to 

licking  the  feet  and  kissing  the  feet.  Of  a  Malagasy  chief 
Drury  says — "  he  had  scarcely  seated  himself  at  his  door, 


OBEISANCES.  125 

when  his  wife  came  out  crawling  on  her  hands  and  knees 
till  she  came  to  him,  and  then  licked  his  feet  ...  all  the 
women  in  the  town  saluted  their  husbands  in  the  same  man- 
ner." Slaves  did  the  like  to  their  masters.  So  in  ancient 
Peru,  "when  the  chiefs  came  before  [Atahuallpa],  they 
made  gi'eat  obeisances,  kissing  his  feet  and  hands."  Eg}^- 
tian  wall-paintings  represent  this  extreme  homage;  and  in 
Assyrian  records  Sennacherib  mentions  that  Menahem 
of  Samaria  came  up  to  bring  presents  and  to  kiss  his  feet. 
"  Kissing  his  feet "  was  part  of  the  reverence  shown  to 
Christ  by  the  woman  with  the  box  of  ointment.  At  the 
present  day  among  the  Arabs,  inferiors  kiss  the  feet,  the 
knees,  or  the  garments  of  their  superiors.  Kissing  the 
Sultan's  feet  is  a  usage  in  Turkey;  and  Sir  R.  K.  Porter 
narrates  that  in  acknowledgment  of  a  present,  a  Persian 
"  threw  himself  on  the  gTound,  kissed  my  knees  and  my 
feet." 

Kissing  the  hand  is  a  less  humiliating  observance  than 
kissing  the  feet;  mainly,  perhaps,  because  it  does  not  in- 
volve a  prostration.  This  difference  of  implication  is  recog- 
nized in  regions  remote  from  one  another.  In  Tonga, 
"  when  a  person  salutes  a  superior  relation,  he  kisses  the 
hand  of  the  party;  if  a  very  superior  relation,  he  kisses  the 
foot."  And  the  women  who  wait  on  the  Arabian  princesses, 
kiss  their  hands  when  they  do  them  the  favour  not  to  suffer 
them  to  kiss  their  feet  or  the  borders  of  their  robes.  The 
prevalence  of  this  obeisance  as  expressing  loving  submis- 
sion, is  so  great  as  to  render  illustration  superfluous. 

What  is  implied,  where,  instead  of  kissing  another's 
hand,  the  person  making  the  obeisance  kisses  his  own  hand? 
Does  the  one  symbolize  the  other,  as  being  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  it  possible  under  the  circumstances?  This  ap- 
pears a  hazardous  inference;  but  there  is  evidence  justify- 
ing it.    D'Arvieux  says — 

"An  oriental  pays  his  respects  to  a  person  of  superior  station  by 
kissing  his  hand  and  putting  it  to  his  forehead ;  but  if  the  superior  be 


126  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

of  a  condescending  tcmi)er,  he  will  snatch  away  his  hand  as  soon  as 
the  other  has  touched  it;  then  tlie  inferior  puts  his  own  fingers  to  his 
lips  and  afterwards  to  his  forehead." 

This,  I  think,  makes  it  clear  that  the  coimunn  custoni  of 
kissing  the  hand  to  another,  originally  expressed  the  wish, 
or  the  willingness,  to  kiss  his  hand. 

Here,  as  before,  the  observance,  beginning  as  a  spon- 
taneous propitiation  of  conqueror  by  concpiered,  of  master 
by  slave,  of  ruler  by  ruled,  early  passes  into  a  religious  pro- 
pitiation also.  To  the  ghost,  and  to  the  deity  developed 
from  the  ghost,  these  actions  of  love  and  liking  are  used. 
That  embracing  and  kissing  of  the  lower  extremities,  which 
was  among  the  Hebrews  an  obeisance  to  the  living  person, 
Egyptian  wall-paintings  represent  as  an  obeisance  made  to 
the  mummy  enclosed  in  its  case;  and  then,  in  pursuance  of 
this  action,  we  have  kissing  the  feet  of  statues  of  gods  in 
pagan  Rome  and  of  holy  images  among  C^hristians.  An- 
cient Mexico  furnished  an  instance  of  the  transition  from 
kissing  the  groimd  as  a  political  obeisance,  to  a  modified  kiss- 
ing the  ground  as  a  religious  obeisance.  Describing  an  oath 
Clavigero  says — "  Then  naming  the  principal  god,  or  any 
other  they  particularly  reverenced,  they  kissed  their  hand, 
after  having  touched  the  earth  with  it."  In  Peru  "  the 
manner  of  worship  was  to  open  the  hands,  to  make  some 
noise  with  the  lips  as  of  kissing,  and  to  ask  what  they 
wished,  at  the  same  time  offering  the  sacrifice;  "  and  Garci- 
lasso,  describing  the  libation  to  the  Sun,  adds — "  At  the 
same  time  they  kissed  the  air  two  or  three  times,  which 
.  .  .  was  a  token  of  adoration  among  these  Indians."  INTor 
have  European  races  failed  to  furnish  kindred  facts.  Kiss- 
ing the  hand  to  the  statue  of  a  god  was  a  Roman  form  of 
adoration. 

Once  more,  saltatory  movements,  which  being  natural 
expressions  of  delight  become  complimentary  acts  before 
a  visible  ruler,  become  acts  of  worship  before  an  invisible 
ruler.        David  danced  before  the  ark.        Dancing    was 


OBEISANCES.  127 

originally  a  religious  ceremony  among  the  Greeks:  from 
the  earliest  times  the  ''  worship  of  Apollo  was  connected 
with  a  religious  dance."  King  Pepin,  "  like  King  David, 
forgetful  of  the  regal  purple,  in  his  joy  bedewed  his  costly 
robes  with  tears,  and  danced  before  the  relics  of  the  blessed 
martyr."  And  in  the  Middle  Ages  there  were  religious 
dances  in  churches;  as  there  are  still  in  Christian  churches 
at  Jerusalem. 

§  387.  To  interj)ret  another  series  of  observances  we 
must  go  back  to  the  prostration  in  its  original  form.  I  refer 
to  those  expressions  of  submission  which  are  made  by  put- 
ting dust  or  ashes  on  some  part  of  the  body. 

Men  cannot  roll  over  in  the  sand  in  front  of  their  king, 
or  crawl  before  him,  or  repeatedly  knock  their  heads  against 
the  ground,  without  soiling  themselves.  Hence  the  adher- 
ing dirt  is  recognized  as  a  concomitant  mark  of  subjection; 
and  comes  to  be  gratuitously  assumed,  and  artificially  in- 
creased, in  the  anxiety  to  propitiate.  Already  the  associa- 
tion between  this  act  and  the  act  of  prostration  has  been  in- 
cidentally exemplified  by  cases  from  Africa;  and  Africa 
furnishes  other  cases  which  exemplify  more  fully  this  self- 
defiling  as  a  distinct  form.  "  In  the  Congo  regions  prostra- 
tion is  made,  the  earth  is  kissed,  and  dust  is  strewed  over  the 
forehead  and  arms,  before  every  Banza  or  village  chief;  " 
and  Burton  adds  that  the  Dahoman  salutation  consists  of 
two  actions — prostration  and  pouring  sand  or  earth  upon 
the  head.  Similarly  "  in  saluting  a  stranger,  they  [the 
Kakanda  people  on  the  Xiger]  stoop  almost  to  the  earth, 
throwing  dust  on  their  foreheads  several  times."  And 
among  the  Balonda, 

"The  inferiors,  on  meeting  their  superiors  in  the  street,  at  once 
drop  on  their  knees  and  rub  dust  on  their  arms  and  chest.  .  .  .  Dur- 
ing an  oration  to  a  person  commanding  respect,  the  speaker  every 
two  or  three  seconds  '  picked  up  a  little  sand,  and  rubbing  it  on  the 
upper  part  of  his  arms  and  chest.'  .  .  .  When  they  wish  to  be  exces- 


128  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

sivcly  polite,  they  bring  a  quautity  oF  ashes  or  pipeday  in  a  piece  of 
skin,  and,  taking  up  handfuls,  rub  it  on  tlie  cliest  and  upper  front 
part  of  each  arm." 

Moreover,  we  arc  slunvn  how  in  this  case,  as  m  all  other 
cases,  the  eereniony  tiiulcrgoes  abridgiueiit.  Of  these  same 
lialoiida,  Livingstone  says,  "  the  ehiefs  go  throngh  the 
manoeuvre  of  rubbing  the  sand  oil  the  arms,  but  only  make 
a  feint  of  picking  up  some."  On  the  Lower  Niger,  the 
people  when  making  prostrations  "  cover  them  [their 
heads]  repeatedly  with  sand;  or  at  all  events  they  go 
throngh  tlie  motion  of  doing  so.  Women,  on  perceiving 
their  friends,  kneel  immediately,  and  pretend  to  pour  sand 
alternately  over  each  arm."  In  Asia  this  ceremony  was, 
and  still  is,  performed  with  like  meaning.  As  expressing 
political  humiliation  it  was  adopted  by  the  priests  who,  wdien 
going  to  implore  Florus  to  spare  the  Jews,  appeared  "  with 
dust  sprinkled  in  great  })lenty  upon  their  heads,  with  bosoms 
deprived  of  any  covering  but  what  was  rent."  In  Turkey, 
abridgments  of  the  obeisance  may  yet  be  witnessed.  At  a 
review,  even  officers  on  horseback,  saluting  their  snperiors, 
''  go  through  the  form  of  throwing  dust  over  their  heads;  " 
and  when  a  caravan  of  pilgrims  started,  spectators  "  went 
through  the  pantomime  of  throwing  dirt  over  their  heads." 
Hebrew  records  prove  that  this  sign  of  submission  made 
before  visible  persons,  was  made  before  invisible  persons 
also.  Along  with  those  blood-lettings  and  markings  of  the 
flesh  and  cuttings  of  the  hair  which,  at  funerals,  were  used 
to  propitiate  the  ghost,  there  went  the  pntting  of  ashes  on 
the  head.  The  like  was  done  to  propitiate  the  deity;  as 
when  "  Joshua  rent  his  clothes,  and  fell  to  the  earth  upon 
his  face  before  the  ark  of  the  Lord  until  the  eventide,  he 
and  the  elders  of  Israel,  and  put  dnst  npon  their  heads." 
Even  still  this  usage  occurs  among  Catholics  on  occasions  of 
special  humiliation. 

§  388.  "We  mnst  again  return  to  that  original  obeisance 
which    first    actually    is,   and    then    which   simulates,   the 


OBEISANCES.  129 

attitude  of  the  c(3nquered  before  the  conqueror,  to  find  the 
clue  to  certain  further  movements  signifying  submission. 
As  described  in  a  foregoing  paragraph,  the  supplicating 
Ivliond  "  throws  himself  on  his  face  with  hands  joined." 
AVhence  this  attitude  of  the  hands? 

From  the  usages  of  the  people  among  whom  submission 
and  all  marks  of  it  were  carried  to  gTcat  extremes,  an  in- 
stance has  already  Ijeen  given  indicating  the  genesis  of 
this  action.  A  sign  of  humility  in  ancient  Peru  was  to  have 
the  hands  bound  and  a  ro])e  round  the  neck:  the  condition 
of  captives  was  simulated.  Did  there  need  proof  that  it 
has  been  a  common  practice  to  make  prisoners  of  war  de- 
fenceless by  tying  their  hands,  I  might  begin  with  Assyrian 
wall-scul[)tures,  in  which  men  thus  bound  are  represented; 
but  the  fact  that  among  ourselves,  men  charged  vitli  crimes 
are  hand-cuffed  by  the  police  when  taken,  shows  how 
naturally  suggested  is  this  method  of  rendering  prisoners 
impotent.  And  for  concluding  that  bound  hands  hence 
came  to  be  an  adopted  mark  of  subjection,  further  reason 
is  furnished  by  two  strange  customs  found  in  Africa  and 
Asia  respectively.  AVhen  the  king  of  Uganda  returned 
the  visit  of  captains  Speke  and  Grant,  "  his  brothers,  a  mob 
of  little  ragamuffins,  several  in  hand-cuffs,  sat  behind  him. 
...  It  was  said  that  the  king,  before  coming  to  the  throne, 
always  went  about  in  irons,  as  his  small  brothers  now  do." 
And  then,  among  the  Chinese,  "  on  the  third  day  after  the 
birth  of  a  child  .  .  .  the  ceremony  of  binding  its  wrists  is 
observed.  .  .  .  These  things  are  worn  till  the  child  is 
fourteen  days  old  .  .  .  sometimes  .  .  .  for  several  months,  or 
even  for  a  year.  ...  It  is  thought  that  such  a  tying  of  the 
wrists  will  tend  to  keep  the  child  from  being  troublesome  in 
after  life." 

Such  indications  of  its  origin,  joined  with  such  examples 
of  derived  practices,  force  on  us  the  inference  that  raising 
the  joined  hands  as  part  of  that  primitive  obeisance  signi- 
fying absolute  submission,  was  an  offering  of  the  hands  to 


130  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

be  bouml.  The  above-described  attitude  of  the  Khond  ex- 
hibits the  proceeding  in  its  original  form;  and  on  reading 
in  Hue  that  "  the  ^Nlongnl  hunter  sahited  us,  with  his 
clasped  hands  raised  to  his  forehead,"  or  in  Drury  that  when 
the  Malagasy  approach  a  great  man,  they  hold  the  hands 
up  in  a  supplicatory  form,  we  cannot  doubt  that  this  act 
now  expresses  reverence  because  it  originally  implied  sub- 
jugation. Of  the  Siamese,  La  Loubere  says — "  If  you 
extend  your  hand  to  a  Siamese,  to  place  it  in  his,  he  carries 
both  his  hands  to  yours,  as  if  to  place  himself  entirely  in 
your  power."  That  presentation  of  the  joined  hands  has  the 
meaning  here  suggested,  is  elsewhere  shown.  In  Ui\yan- 
yembe,  "  when  two  of  them  meet,  the  Wezee  puts  both  his 
palms  together,  these  are  gently  clasped  by  the  Watusi  " 
[a  man  of  more  powerful  race]  ;  and  in  Sumatra,  the  obei- 
sance "  consists  in  bending  the  body,  and  the  inferior's 
putting  his  joined  hands  between  those  of  the  superior,  and 
then  lifting  them  to  his  forehead."  By  these  instances  we 
are  reminded  that  a  kindred  act  was  once  a  form  of  submis- 
sion in  Europe.  When  doing  homage,  the  vassal,  on  his 
knees,  placed  his  joined  hands  between  the  hands  of  his 
suzerain. 

As  in  foregoing  cases,  an  attitude  signifying  defeat  and 
therefore  political  subordination,  becomes  an  attitude  of 
religious  devotion.  By  the  Mahommedan  worshipper  we 
are  shown  that  same  clasping  of  the  hands  above  the  head 
Mdiich  expresses  reverence  for  a  living  superior.  Among 
the  Greeks,  "  the  Olympian  gods  were  prayed  to  in  an  up- 
right position  with  raised  hands;  the  marine  gods  with 
hands  held  horizontally;  the  gods  of  Tartarus  with  hands 
held  down."  And  tlie  presentation  of  the  hands  joined 
palm  to  palm,  once  throughout  Europe  required  from  an 
inferior  when  professing  obedience  to  a  superior,  is  still 
taught  to  children  as  the  attitude  of  prayer. 

A  kindred  use  of  the  hands  descends  into  social  inter- 
course; and  in  the  far  East  the  filiation  continues  to  be 


OBEISANCES.  131 

clear.  "  THien  tlie  Siamese  salute  one  anotlier,  tliey  join 
the  hands,  raising-  them  before  the  face  or  above  the 
head."  Of  the  eight  obeisances  in  China,  the  least  pro- 
found is  that  of  putting  the  hands  together  and  raising  them 
before  the  breast.  Even  among  ourselves  a  remnant  of 
this  action  is  traceable.  An  obsequious  shopman  or  fussy 
innkeeper,  mav  be  seen  to  join  and  loosely  move  the 
slightly  raised  hands  one  over  another,  in  a  way  sug- 
gestive of  derivation  from  this  j)rimitive  sign  of  sub- 
mission. 

§  389.  A  group  of  obeisances  having  a  connected, 
though  divergent,  root,  come  next  to  be  dealt  with.  Those 
which  we  have  thus  far  considered  do  not  directly  affect  the 
subject  person's  dress.  But  from  modifications  of  dress, 
either  in  position,  state,  or  kind,  a  series  of  ceremonial  ob- 
servances result. 

The  conquered  man,  prostrate  before  his  conqueror,  and 
becoming  himself  a  possession,  simultaneously  loses  posses- 
sion of  whatever  things  he  has  about  him;  and  therefore, 
surrendering  his  weapons,  he  also  yields  up,  if  the  victor 
demands  it,  wliatever  part  of  his  dress  is  worth  taking. 
Hence  the  nakedness,  partial  or  comj^lete,  of  the  captive, 
becomes  additional  evidence  of  his  subjugation.  That  it 
was  so  regarded  of  old  in  the  East,  there  is  clear  proof.  In 
Isaiah  xx.  2 — 4,  we  read — "  And  the  Lord  said,  like  as  my 
servant  Isaiah  hath  walked  naked  and  barefoot  three  years 
for  a  sign  ...  so  shall  the  king  of  Assyria  lead  away  the 
Egyptians  prisoners,  and  the  Ethiopians  captives,  young 
and  old,  naked  and  barefoot."  And  that  the  Assyrians 
completely  stripped  their  captives  is  shown  by  their  sculp- 
tures. Nay,  even  our  own  days  furnish  evidence;  as  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Afghan  war,  when  the  Afreedees  were 
reported  to  have  stri])ped  certain  prisoners  they  had  taken. 
Naturally,  then,  tlie  taking  oft"  and  yielding  up  of  cloth- 
ing becomes  a  mark  of  political  submission,  and  in  some 


132  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

cases  even  a  ooinplimentary  observance.  Tn  Fiji,  on  the 
day  for  paying  tribute — 

"The  chief  of  Somo  Somo,  who  had  previouslj'  stripped  off  his 
robes,  then  sat  down,  and  removed  even  the  train  or  covering,  which 
was  of  immense  length,  from  his  waist.  He  gave  it  to  the  speaker," 
who  gave  him  "in  return  a  piece  hirge  enough  only  for  the  purposes 
of  decency.  The  rest  of  the  Somo-Somo  chiefs,  each  of  whom  on 
coming  on  the  ground  had  a  train  of  several  yards  in  length,  strijjped 
themselves  entirely,  left  their  trains,  and  walked  away  .  .  .  thus 
leaving  all  the  Somo-Somo  people  naked," 

Further  we  read  that  during-  Cook's  stay  at  Tahiti,  two  men 
of  superior  rank  ''  came  on  board,  and  each  singled  out  his 
friend  .  .  .  this  ceremony  consisted  in  taking  oif  great  ]iart 
of  tlieir  ck)thes  and  putting  them  upon  us."  And  then  in 
another  Polynesian  island,  Samoa,  this  complimentary  act 
is  greatly  abridged:  only  the  girdle  is  presented. 

With  such  facts  to  give  us  the  clue,  we  can  scarcely 
doubt  that  surrender  of  clothing  originates  those  obeisances 
which  are  made  by  uncovering  the  body,  more  or  less  exten- 
sively. All  degrees  of  uncovenng  have  this  meaning. 
From  Ibn  Batuta's  account  of  his  journey  into  the  Soudan, 
Mr.  Tylor  cites  the  statement  that  "  wonu^n  may  only  come 
unclothed  into  the  presence  of  the  Sultan  of  nielli,  and  even 
the  Sultan's  own  daughters  must  conform  to  the  custom;  " 
and  what  doubt  we  might  reasonably  feel  as  to  the  existence 
of  an  obeisance  thus  carried  to  its  original  extreme,  is  re- 
moved t)n  reading  in  Speke  that  at  the  present,  time,  at  the 
court  of  Uganda,  "  stark-naked,  full-grown  women  are  tlie 
valets."  Elsewhere  in  Africa  an  incomplete,  though  still 
considerable,  unclothing  as  an  obeisance  occurs.  In 
Abyssinia  inferiors  bare  their  bodies  down  to  the  girdle  in 
presence  of  superiors;  '"  but  to  equals  the  corner  of  the 
cloth  is  removed  only  for  a  time."  The  like  occurs  in  Poly- 
nesia. The  Tahitians  uncover  "  the  body  as  low  as  the 
waist,  in  the  presence  of  the  king;  "  and  in  the  Society 
Isles  generally,  "  the  lower  ranks  of  people,  by  way  of  re- 
spect, strip  off  their  upper  garment  in  the  presence  of  their  " 


OBEISANCES.  133 

principal  chiefs.  How  this  obeisance  becomes  further 
abridged,  and  how  it  becomes  extended  to  other  persons 
than  rulers,  is  shown  by  natives  of  the  Gold  Coast. 

"  They  also'salute  Europeans,  and  sometimes  each  other,  by  slight- 
ly removing  their  robe  from  their  left  shoulder  with  the  right  hand, 
gracefully  bowing  at  the  same  time.  When  they  wish  to  be  very  re- 
spectful, they  uncover  .the  shoulder  altogether,  and  support  the  robe 
under  the  arm,  the  whole  of  the  person  from  the  breast  upwarda 
being  left  exposed." 

And  Burton  says  that,  "  throughout  Yoruba  and  the  Gold 
Coast,  to  bare  the  shoulders  is  like  unhatting  in  England.'' 

Evidently  uncovering  the  head,  thus  suggestively  com- 
pared with  uncovering  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  has  the 
same  original  meaning.  Even  in  certain  European  usages 
the  relation  between  the  two  has  been  recognized;  as  by 
Ford,  who  remarks  that  "  uncloaking  in  Spain  is  .  .  . 
equivalent  to  our  taking  off  the  hat."  It  is  recognized 
in  Africa  itself,  where,  as  in  Dahomey,  the  two  are  joined: 
"  the  men  bared  their  shoulders,  doffing  their  caps  and 
large  umbrella  hats,"  says  Burton,  speaking  of  his  recep- 
tion. It  is  recognized  in  Polynesia,  where,  as  in  Tahiti, 
along  with  the  stripping  down  to  the  waist  before  the  king, 
there  goes  uncovering  of  the  head.  Hence  it  seems  that 
removal  of  the  hat  among  European  peoples,  often  reduced 
among  ourselves  to  touching  the  hat,  is  a  remnant  of  that 
process  of  unclothing  himself,  .by  which,  in  early  times,  the 
captive  expressed  the  yielding  up  of  all  he  had. 

That  baring  the  feet  has  the  same  origin,  is  well  shown 
by  these  same  Gold  Coast  natives;  for  while  they  partially 
bare  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  they  also  take  off  their 
sandals  ''as  a  nuirk  of  respect:  "  they  begin  to  strip  the 
body  at  both  ends.  Throughout  ancient  America  uncov- 
ering the  feet  had  a  like  meaning.  In  Peru,  "  no  lord, 
however  groat  he  might  be,  entered  the  presence  of  the 
Ynca  in  rich  clothing,  but  in  Innnble  attire  and  barefoot- 
ed; "  and  in  Mexico,  "  the  kings  who  were  vassals  of  Monte- 
67 


\CA  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

zuiua  were  obliged  to  take  off  their  shoes  when  they  came 
into  his  presence:  "  the  signilicance  of  this  act  being  so 
great  that  as  "  Michoacan  was  independent  of  J\lexico,  the 
sovereign  took  the  title  of  cazonzi — that  is,  '  shod.'  "  Kin- 
dred accounts  of  Asiatics  have  made  the  usage  familiar 
to  us.  In  Biirmah,  ''  even  in  -the  streets  and  highways,  a 
European,  if  he  meets  with  the  king,  or  joins  his  party,  is 
obliged  to  take  off  his  shoes."  And  in  Persia,  every  one 
who  approaches  the  royal  presence  must  bare  his  feet. 

Verification  of  these  interpretations  is  yielded  by  the 
equally  obvious  interpretations  of  certain  usages  which  we 
similarly  meet  with  in  societies  where  extreme  expressions 
of  subjection  are  required.  I  refer  to  the  appearing  in  pres- 
ence of  I'ulers  dressed  in  coarse  clothing — the  clothing  of 
slaves.  In  Mexico,  whenever  Montezuma's  attendants 
"  entered  his  apartments,  they  had  first  to  take  off  their  rich 
costumes  and  put  on  meaner  garments."  In  Peru,  along 
with  the  rule  that  a  subject  should  appear  before  the  Ynca 
with  a  burden  on  his  back,  simulating  servitude,  and  al9ng 
with  the  rule  that  he  should  be  barefooted,  further 
simulating  servitude,  there  went,  as  we  have  seen,  the  rule 
that  '*  no  lord,  however  great  he  might  be,  entered  the 
presence  of  the  Ynca  in  rich  clothing,  but  in  humble  attire," 
again  simulating  servitude.  A  kindred  though  less  ex- 
treme usage  exists  in  Dahomey:  the  highest  subjects  may 
''  ride  on  horseback,  be  carried  in  hammocks,  wear  silk, 
maintain  a  numerous  retinue,  with  large  umbrellas  of  their 
own  order,  fiags,  trumi)ets,  aiid  other  nnisical  instruments; 
but,  on  their  entrance  at  the  royal  gate,  all  these  insignia  are 
laid  aside."  Even  in  mediseval  Europe,  submission  was  ex- 
pressed by  taking  off  those  parts  of  the  (hvss  and  ap[)(ni(lage3 
^vhich  were  inconsistent  with  the  api)earance  of  servitude. 
Thus,  in  France,  in  14G7,  the  head  men  of  the  town,  surren- 
dering to  a  victorious  dnke,  "  brought  to  his  camp  with  them 
three  hundred  of  the  best  citizens  in  their  shirts,  barehead- 
fil,  and  bai'elegged,  wlio  preseiitecl  ihe  kcies  of  the  citie  to 


OBEISANCES.  135 

liini,  and  yielded  themselves  to  his  mercy."  And  the  doing 
of  feudal  homage  included  observances  of  kindred  meaning. 
Saint  Simon,  describing  one  of  the  latest  instances,  and 
naming  among  ceremonies  gone  through  the  giving  up  of 
belt,  sword,  gloves,  and  hat,  -says  that  this  was  done  "  to 
strip  the  vassal  of  his  marks  of  dignity  in  the  presence  of 
his  lord."  So  that  whether  it  be  the  putting  on  of  coarse 
clothing  or  the  putting  off  of  fine  clothing,  the  meaning  is 
the  same. 

Observances  of  this  kind,  like  those  of  other  kinds,  ex- 
tend themselves  from  the  feared  being  who  is  visible  to  the 
feared  being  who  is  invisible — the  ghost  and  the.  god.  On 
remembering  that  by  the  Hebrews,  putting  on  sackcloth 
and  ashes  was  joined  with  cutting  the  hair,  self-bleeding, 
and  making  marks  on  the  body,  to  propitiate  the  ghost — on 
reading  that  the  habit  continues  in  the  East,  so  that  a 
mourning  lady  described  by  Mr.  Salt,  was  covered  with 
sackcloth  and  sprinkled  with  ashes,  and  so  that  Burckhardt 
"  saw  the  female  relations  of  a  deceased  chief  running 
through  all  the  principal  streets,  their  bodies  half  naked, 
and  the  little  clothing  they  had  on  being  rags,  while  the 
head,  face,  and  breast,"  were  "  almost  entirely  covered  with 
ashes;  "  it  becomes  clear  that  the  semi-nakedness,  the  torn 
garments,  and  the  coarse  garments,  expressing  submission 
to  a  living  superior,  serve  also  to  express  submission  to  one 
who,  dying  and  becoming  a  supernatural  being,  has  so  ac- 
quired a  power  that  is  dreaded.*^     This  inference  is  con- 

*  For  the  use  of  coarse  and  dinpy  fabrics  in  mourning  by  Hebrews,  Greeks, 
and  Romans,  and  of  inferior  clothing  by  numerous  peoples,  two  causes,  both 
resulting  from  ghost-propitiation,  appear  to  act  separately  or  jomtly.  One  is 
the  sacrifice  of  clothes,  often  the  best,  at  the  grave  of  the  dead  man,  of  which 
instances  were  given  in  §  103  ;  and  in  further  exemplification  of  which  may  be 
named  Mr.  Willard's  account  of  a  funeral  in  a  Californian  tribe,  the  Sen-el, 
among  whom,  by  a  man,  a  "  quite  new  and  fine  "  coat,  and  by  women,  "  their 
gaudiest  dresses  "  were  thrown  on  the  pyre ;  or  the  account  by  Young  of  the 
Blackfeet,  who,  on  such  occasions,  divested  "themselves  of  clothing  even  in  the 
coldest  weather." — (Dr.  II.  ('.  Yarrow's  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Jlortuart) 


136  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

firmed  on  observing  that  like  acts  become  acts  of  religions 
snbordination.  Isaiah,  himself  setting  the  example,  ex- 
horts the  rebellious  Israelites  to  make  their  peace  with  Jah- 
veh  in  the  words — "  Strip  you,  and  make  you  bare,  and  gird 
sackcloth  upon  jour  loins."  .  So,  too,  the  fourscore  men 
who  came  from  Shechem,  Sliiloh,  and  Samaria,  to  propitiate 
Jahveh,  besides  cutting  their  hair  and  gashing  themselves, 
tore  their  clothes.  i^or  does  the  parallelism  fail 

with  baring  the  feet.  This  was  a  sign  of  mourning  among 
the  Hebrews;  as  is  shown  by  the  command  in  Ezekiel  (xxiv. 
17),  "  Forbear  to  cry,  make  no  mourning  for  the  dead,  bind 
the  tire  of  thine  head  upon  thee,  and  put  on  thy  shoes  upon 
thy  feet."  And  then,  among  the  Hebrews,  putting  off  the 
shoes  was  also  an  act  of  worship.  Elsewhere,  too,  it  oc- 
curred as  in  common  a  mark  of  political  subordination  and 
of  religious  subordination.  Of  the  Peruvians,  who  went 
barefoot  into  the  presence  of  the  Ynca,  we  read  that  ''  all 
took  off  their  shoes,  except  the  king,  at  two  himdred  paces 
before  reaching  the  doors  [of  the  temple  of  the  Sun]  ;  but 
the  king  remained  with  his  shoes  on  until  he. came  to  the 
doors."  Once  more,  the  like  holds  with  baring  the 

head.  Used  along  with  other  ceremonial  acts  to  jiropitiate 
the  living  superior,  this  is  used  also  to  ])r()i)itiatc  the  s])irit 

Customs  among  the  North  American  Indians,  pp.  55  und  07.)  For,  if,  to  pro- 
pitiate the  gliost,  the  best  clothing  is  sacrificed,  the  implication  is  that  inferior 
or  inadequate  clothing  remains  for  use.  Hence  conies  "  tlie  cliief  mourner 
being  clad  in  moss  "  among  the  Santee  Indians  (p.  38).  The  more  obvious  and 
still-continuing  motive  is  that  gi-ief  is  inconsistent  with  wearing  the  best, 
which  is  usually  the  gayest,  clothing.  Thus  we  read  that  among  the  Choctaws 
the  "  widow  wholly  neglects  her  toilet,"  and  that  among  the  Chippewas  she  is 
"not  permitted  to  wear  any  finery  "  for  twelve  moons  (Yarrow,  pp.  92-.").  In 
a  letter  of  a  deceased  relative  of  mine,  dated  1810,  I  find  an  instructive  ex- 
ample of  the  way  in  which  natural  feeling  prompts  this  putting  on  of  inferior 
clothes.  Ppcaking  of  a  conversation  held  with  a  pedler  concerning  an  eccen- 
tric but  benevolent  mati,  the  writer  describes  the  pedler  as  praising  him  and 
saying,  "  he  thought  he  should  put  on  his  worst  clothes  when  he  died."  That 
is,  not  being  able  to  afford  mourning,  he  proposed  to  revert  to  this  primitive 
method  of  showing  sorrow. 


OBEISANCES.  137 

of  the  ordinary  dead,  and  the  spirit  of  the  apotheosized 
dead.  Uncovering-  round  the  grave  continues  even  among 
ourselves;  and  on  the  Continent,  there  is  uncovering  by 
those  who  meet  a  funeral  procession.  Taking  off  the  hat  to 
images  of  Christ  and  the  ]\Iadonna,  out  of  doors  and  in- 
doors, was  enjoined  in  old  books  of  manners.  Unhatting  on 
the  knees  when  the  host  is  carried  by,  occurs  still  in  Catholic 
countries.  And  habitually  men  bare  their  heads  on  enter- 
ing places  of  worship. 

Nor  must  we  omit  to  note  that  obeisances  of  this  class, 
too,  made  first  to  supreme  persons  and  presently  to  less  pow- 
erful persons,  diffuse  gradually  until  they  become  gen- 
eral. Quotations  above  given  have  shown  incidentally  that 
in  Africa  partial  uncovering  of  the  shoulder  is  a  salute  be- 
tween equals,  and  that  a  kindred  removal  of  the  cloak  in 
Spain  serves  a  like  purpose.  Similarly,  the  going  barefoot 
into  a  king's  presence,  and  into  a  temple,  originates  an 
ordinary  civility.  The  Damaras  take  off  their  sandals  be- 
fore entering  a  stranger's  house;  a  Japanese  leaves  his 
slioes  at  the  door,  even  when  he  enters  a  shop;  "  upon  en- 
tering a  Turkish  house,  it  is  the  invariable  rule  to  leave 
the  outer  slipper  or  galosh  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs."  And 
then  in  Europe,  from  having  been  a  ceremony  of  feudal 
homage  and  of  religious  worship,  uncovering  the  head  has 
become  an  expression  of  respect  due  even  to  a  labourer  on 
entering  his  cottage. 

§  390.  These  last  facts  suggest  a  needful  addition  to  the 
ai'gument.  Something  more  must  be  said  respecting  the 
way  in  which  all  kinds  of  obeisances  between  equals,  have 
resulted  by  diffusion  from  obeisances  which  originally  ex- 
pressed surrender  to  a  conqueror. 

Proof  has  been  given  that  rhythmical  muscular  move- 
ments, naturally  signifying  joy,  such  as  jumping,  clapping 
the  hands,  and  even  drumming  the  ribs  with  the  elbows, 
become  .simulated  signs  of  joy  used  to  propitiate  a  king. 


138  CEREMONIAT.   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

These  simulated  signs  of  joy  become  civilities  where  there 
is  no  difference  of  rank.  According  to  (.Irant,  "  when  a 
birth  took  place  in  the  Toorkec  camj)  .  .  .  women  assem- 
bled to  rejoice  at  the  door  of  the  mother,  by  cln[)[)ing  their 
hands,  dancing,  and  shonting.  Their  dance  consisted  in 
jnmping  in  the  air,  throwing  ont  their  legs  in  the  most  nn- 
conth  manner,  and  flapping  their  sides  with  their  elbows.'' 
Where  circnmsta-nces  permit,  sncli  emphatic  marks  of  con- 
sideration become  mntual.  On  the  Slave  Coast,  "  when  two 
persons  of  eqnal  condition  meet  each  other,  they  fall  both 
down  on  their  knees  together,  clap  hands,  antl  nnitnally  sa- 
lute, by  wishing  each  other  a  good  day."  In  China,  during 
a  wedding  visit  "  each  visitor  prostrated  himself  at  the  feet 
of  the  bride,  and  knocked  his  head  upon  the  ground,  saying 
at  the  same  time, '  I  congratulate  you !  I  congratulate  you !  ' 
whilst  the  bride,  also  upon  her  knees,  and  knocking  her 
head  upon  the  ground,  replied,  '  I  thank  you !  T  thank 
you!  '"  And  among  the  ]\ros(pntos,  says  Bancroft,  ''one 
will  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  another,  who  helps  him  up, 
embraces  him,  and  falls  down  in  his  turn  to  be  assisted  up 
and  comforted  with  a  ])ressure."  Such  extreme  instances 
yield  A'eritications  of  the  inference  that  the  mutual  bows, 
and  curtseys,  and  unliattings,  among  ourselves,  are  rem- 
nants of  the  original  i)rostrations  and  stri))iungs  of  the 
captive. 

But  I  give  these  instances  chiefly  as  introducing  the 
interju'ctation  of  a  still  more  familiar  observance.  Already 
I  have  named  the  fact  that  between  ]iolite  Arabs  the  offer 
of  an  interior  to  kiss  a  suj)erior's  hand,  is  resisted  hy  the 
superior  if  he  is  condescending,  and  that  the  conflict  ends 
by  the  inferior  kissing  his  own  hand  to  the  superior. 
Further  evidence  is  given  by  Malcolm,  who  says: — 
"  Everyone  [Arab]  who  met  a  friend  took  his  right  hand, 
and,  after  shaking  it,  raised  it  as  high  as  his  breast."  And 
the  following,  from  Niebuhr,  is  an  account  of  an  allied 
usage : — 


OBEISANCES.  139 

"Two  Arabs  of  the  desert  meeting,  shake  hands  more  than  ten 
times.  Each  kisses  his  own  hand,  and  still  repeats  the  question, 
'  How  art  tliou  ? '  .  .  .  In  Yemen,  each  does  as  if  he  wished  the 
other's  hand,  and  draws  back  his  own  to  avoid  receiving  the  same 
honour.  At  length,  to  end  the  contest,  the  eldest  of  the  two  suffers 
the  other  to  kiss  his  fingers." 

Have  we  not  here,  then,  the  origin  of  shaking  hands?  If 
of  two  persons  each  wishes  to  make  an  obeisance  to  the  other 
by  kissing  his  hand,  and  each  out  of  compliment  refuses  to 
have  his  own  hand  kissed,  what  will  happen?  Just  as  when 
leaving  a  room,  each  of  two  persons,  proposing  to  give  the 
other  precedence,  will  refuse  to  go  first,  and  there  will  re- 
sult at  the  doorway  some  conflict  of  movements,  preventing 
either  from  advancing;  so,  if  each  of  two  tries  to  kiss  the 
other's  hand,  and  refuses  to  have  his  own  kissed,  there  will 
result  a  raising  of  the  hand  of  each  by  the  other  towards 
his  own  lips,  and  by  the  other  a  drawing  of  it  down  again, 
and  so  on  alternately.  Though  at  first  such  an  action  will 
be  irregular,  yet  as  fast  as  the  usage  spreads,  and  the  failure 
of  either  to  kiss  the  other's  hand  becomes  a  recognized  issue, 
the  motions,  may  be  expected  to  grow  regular  and  rhyth- 
mical. Clearly  the  difference  between  the  simple  scpieezc, 
to  which  this  salute  is  now  often  abridged,  and  the  old-fash- 
ioned hearty  shake,  exceeds  the  difference  between  the 
hearty  shake  and  the  movement  that  would  result  from  the 
effort  of  each  to  kiss  the  hand  of  the  other. 

Even  in  the  absence  of  this  clue  yielded  by  the  Arab 
custom,  we  should  be  obliged  to  infer  some  such  genesis. 
After  all  that  has  been  shown,  no  one  can  suppose  that  hand- 
shaking was  ever  deliberately  fixed  upon  as  a  complimentary 
observance;  and  if  it  had  a  natural  origin  in  some  act 
which,  like  the  rest,  expressed  subjection,  the  act  of  kissing 
the  hand  must  be  assumed,  as  alone  capable  of  leading  to  it. 

§  391.  Whatever  its  kind,  then,  the  obeisance  has  the 
same  root  with  the  trophy  and  the  mutilation.  At  the  mercy 
of  his  conqueror,  who,  cutting  off  part  of  his  body  as  a  me- 


140  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

morial  of  victory,  kills  him,  or  else,  taking  some  less  im- 
portant part,  marks  him  as  a  subject  person,  the  conquered 
cnemv  lies  ju-one  before  him;  now  on  his  back,  or  now 
with  neck  under  his  conqueror's  foot,  smeared  with  dirt, 
weaponless,  and  with  torn  clothes  or  stripi)ed  of  the  tropliy- 
trinnned  robe  he  prized.  Thus  the  prostration,  the  coatinjj; 
of  dust,  and  the  loss  of  coverin<2;,  incidental  on  defeat,  be- 
come, like  the  mutilation,  recognized  ])r()ofs  of  it.  Whence 
result,  tirst  of  all,  the  enforced  signs  of  submission  of  slaves 
to  masters  and  subjects  to  rulers;  then  tlic  voluntary  as- 
sumptions of  humble  attitudes  before  superiors;  and,  final- 
ly, those  complimentary  movements  expressive  of  inferior- 
ity, made  by  each  to  the  other  between  equals. 

That  all  obeisances  originate  in  militancy,  is  a  conclu- 
sion hannonizing  with  the  fact  that  they  develop  along  with 
development  of  the  militant  type  of  society.  Attitudes  and 
motions  signifying  subjection,  do  not  characterize  headless 
tribes  and  tribes  having  unsettled  chieftainships,  like  the 
Fuegians,  the  Andamanese,  the  Australians,  the  Tasma- 
nians,  the  Esquimaux;  and  accounts  of  etiquette  among  the 
wandering  and  almost  unorganized  connnunities  of  North 
America,  make  little,  if  any,  mention  of  actions  expressing 
subordination.  It  is  remarked  of  the  T\amts(diadales,  who 
when  found  were  without  rulers,  that  '^  their  maimers  are 
quite  rude:  they  never  use  any  civil  expression  or  salu- 
tation; never  take  off  their  caps,  nor  bow  to  one  another." 
On  the  other  hand,  in  societies  compounded  and  consoli- 
dated by  militancy  which  have  acquired  the  militant  type  of 
structure,  political  and  social  life  are  characterized  by  grov- 
elling prostrations.  We  find  them  in  warlike,  cannibal  Fiji, 
where  the  ])ower  of  rulers  over  subjects  is  unlimited;  we 
find  them  in  Uganda,  where  war  is  chronic,  where  the  rev- 
enue is  derived  from  plunder,  and  where  it  is  said  of  the  king 
out  shooting  that,  "  as  his  highness  could  not  get  any  game 
to  shoot  at,  he  shot  down  many  people;  "  we  find  them  in 
sanguinary  Dahomey,  where  adjacent  societies  are  attacked 


OBEISANCES.  141 

to  get  more  heads  for  decorating  the  king's  palace.  Among 
states  more  advanced  they  occur  in  Bnrmah  and  Siam, 
where  the  militant  type,  bequeathed  from  the  past,  has  left 
a  monarchial  power  without  restraint;  in  Japan,  where 
there  has  been  a  despotism  evolved  and  fixed  during  the  wars 
of  early  times ;  and  in  China,  where  a  kindred  form  of  gov- 
ernment, similarly  originated,  survives.  The  like  happens 
with  kissing  the  feet  as  an  obeisance.  This  was  the  usage  in 
ancient  Peru,  where  the  entire  nation  was  under  a  regi- 
mental organization  and  discipline.  It  prevails  in  Mada- 
gascar, where  the  militant  structure  and  activity  are  de- 
cided. And  among  sundry  Eastern  peoples,  living  still,  as 
they  have  ever  done,  under  autocratic  rule,  this  obeisance 
exists  at  present  as  it  existed  in  the  remote  past.  Xor  is, it 
otherwise  with  complete  or  partial  removals  of  the  dress. 
The  extreme  forms  of  this  we  saw  occur  in  Fiji  and  in 
T'ganda;  while  the  less  extreme  form  of  baring  the  body 
down  to  the  waist  was  exemplified  from  Abyssinia  arid  Ta- 
hiti, where  the  kingly  power,  though  great,  is  less  recklessly 
exercised.  So,  too,  with  baring  the  feet.  This  was  an  obei- 
sance to  the  king  in  ancient  Peru  and  ancient  Mexico,  as  it 
is  now  in  Burmah  and  in  Persia — all  of  them  having  the 
despotic  government  evolved  by  militancy.  And  the  like 
relation  holds  with  the  other  servile  obeisances — the  putting- 
dust  on  the  head,  the  assumption  of  mean  clothing,  the  tak- 
ing up  a  burden  to  carry,  the  binding-  of  the  hands. 

The  same  truth  is  shown  us  on  comparing  the  usages  of 
European  peoples  in  early  ages,  when  war  was  the  business 
of  life,  with  the  usages  which  obtain  now  that  war  has 
ceased  to  be  the  business  of  life.  In  feudal  days  homage 
was  shown  by  kissing  the  feet,  by  going  on  the  knees,  by 
joining  the  hands,  by  laying  aside  sundry  parts  of  the 
dress;  but  in  our  days  the  more  humble  of  these  obeisances 
have,  some  quite  and  others  almost,  disappeared:  leaving 
only  the  bow,  the  curtsey,  and  the  raising  of  the  hat,  as 
their  representatives.     Moreover,  it  is  observable  that  be- 


142  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tween  the  more  militant  nations  of  Europe  and  the  loss  mili- 
tant, kindred  diti'crenccs  are  traceable.  On  the  Continent 
obeisances  are  fuller,  and  more  studiously  attended  to,  than 
they  are  hero.  Even  from  within  our  own  society  evidence 
is  forthcomino;;  for  by  the  upper  classes,  forming  that  regu- 
lative part  of  the  social  structure  which  here,  as  everywhere, 
has  been  developed  by  militancy,  there  is  not  only  at  Court, 
but  in  private  intercourse,  greater  attention  paid  to-  these 
forms  than  by  the  classes  forming  the  industrial  structures. 
And  I  may  add  the  significant  fact  that,  in  the  distinctively 
militant  parts  of  our  society — the  army  and  navy — not  only 
•is  there  a  more  strict  performance  of  i)rescribed  obeisances 
than  in  any  other  of  its  parts,  but,  further,  that  in  one  of 
t\iem,  specially  characterized  by  the  absolutism  of  its  chief 
officers,  there  survives  a  usage  analogous  to  usages  in  barbar- 
ous societies.  In  Burmah,  it  is  requisite  to  make  '^  prostra- 
tions in  advancing  to  the  palace;  "  the  Dahomans  prostrate 
themselves  in  front  of  the  palace  gate;  in  Fiji,  stooping  is 
enjoined  as  "  a  mark  of  respect  to  a  chief  or  his  premises, 
or  a  chief's  settlement;  "  and  on  going  on  l)oard  a  British 
man-of-war,  it  is  the  custom  to  take  off  the  hat  to  the  quar- 
ter-deck. 

Kor  ai'c  we  without  kindred  contrasts  among  the  obei- 
sances made  to  the  suiiernatural  being,  whether  spirit  or 
deit}-.  The  wearing  sackcloth  to  propitiate  the  ghost,  as 
•now  in  China  and  as  of  old  among  the  Hebrews,  the  partial 
baring  of  the  body  and  putting  dust  on  the  head,  still 
occurring  in  the  East  as  funeral  rites,  are  not  found  in  ad- 
vanced societies  having  types  of  structure  more  ])rofoundly 
modified  by  industrialism.  Among  ourselves,  most  charac- 
terized by  the  extent  of  this  change,  obeisances  to  the  dead 
have  wholly  disappeared,  save  in  the  uncovering  at  the 
grave.  Similarly  with  the  obeisances  used  in  wor- 

ship. The  baring  of  the  feet  when  a])proaching  a  temple, 
as  in  ancient  Pern,  and  the  removal  of  the  shoes  on  enter- 
ing it,  as  in  the  East,  are  acts  finding  no  parallels  here  on 


OBEISANCES.  143 

any  occasion,  or  on  tlie  Continent,  save  on  occasion  of  pen- 
ance. jS^either  the  prosti-ations  and  repeated  knockings 
of  the  head  npon  the  ground  by  the  Chinese  worshipper, 
nor  the  kindred  attitude  of  the  Mahommedan,  at  prayers, 
occurs  where  freer  forms  of  social  institutions,  proper  to 
the  industrial  type,  have  much  qualified  the  militant  type. 
Even  going  on  the  knees  as  a  form  of  religious  homage, 
has,  among  ourselves,  fallen  greatly  into  disuse;  and  tlic 
most  unmilitant  of  our  sects,  the  Quakers,  make  no  relig- 
ious obeisances  whatever. 

The  connexions  thus  traced,  parallel  to  connexions  al- 
ready traced,  are  at  once  seen  to  be  natural  on  remembering 
that  militant  activities,  intrinsically  coercive,  necessitate 
command  and  obedience;  and  that  therefore  where  they 
predominate,  signs  of  submission  are  insisted  upon.  Con- 
versely, industrial  activities,  whether  exemplified  in  the  re- 
lations of  employer  and  employed  or  of  buyer  and  seller, 
being  carried  on  under  agreement,  are  intrinsically  non- 
coercive; and  therefore,  where  they  predominate,  only  ful- 
filment of  contract  is  insisted  upon:  whence  results  decreas- 
ing use  of  the  signs  of  submission. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FORMS    OF    ADDRESS. 

§  392.  AVliat  an  obeisance  implies  by  acts,  a  form  of 
address  says  in  words.  If  the  two  have  a  common  root 
this  is  to  be  anticipated;  and  that  they  have  a  common  root 
is  demonstrable.  Instances  occur  in  which  tlie  one  is  rec- 
opiized  as  equivalent  to  the  other.  Speaking  of  Poles  and 
Sclavonic  Silesians,  Captain  Spencer  remarks — - 

"Perhaps  no  distinctive  trait  of  manners  more  characterizes  both 
than  their  humiliating  mode  of  acknowledging  a  kindness,  their  ex- 
pression of  gratitude  being  the  servile  "  Upadam  do  nog"  (I  fall  at 
your  feet),  which  is  no  figure  of  speech,  for  they  will  literally  throw 
themselves  down  and  kiss  your  feet  for  the  trifling  donation  of  a  few 
halfpence." 

Here,  then,  the  attitude  of  the  conquered  man  beneath  the 
conquei'or  is  either  actually  assumed  or  verbally  assumed; 
and  when  used,  the  oral  representation  is  a  substitute  for 
the  realizatioji  in  act.  Other  cases  show  us  words  and  deeds 
similarly  associated;  as  when  a  Turkish  courtier,  accus- 
tomed to  make  humble  obeisances,  addresses  the  Sultan — 
''  Centre  of  the  Universe!  Your's  slave's  head  is  at 
your  feet;  "  or  as  when  a  Siamese,  whose  servile  pros- 
trations occur  daily,  says  to  his  superior — "  Lord  Bene- 
factor, at  whose  feet  I  am;  "  to  a  prince — ''  I,  the  sole 
of  your  foot;  "  to  the  king — "  I,  a  dust-grain  of  your  sacred 
feet."  Early  European  manners  furnish  kindred 

evidence.     In-  Kussia  down  to  the  seventeenth  century,  a 

144 


FORMS  OF  ADDRESS.  145 

petition  began  with  tlie  words — "  So  and  so  strikes  liis  fore- 
head "  [on  the  ground]  ;  and  petitioners  were  called  ''  fore- 
head strikers."  At  the  Court  of  France  as  late  as  1577,  it 
was  the  custom  of  some  to  say — "  I  kiss  your  grace's  hands," 
and  of  others  to  say — "  I  kiss  your  lordship's  feet."  Even 
now  of  Spain,  where  orientalisms  linger,  we  read — ''  When 
you  get  up  to  take  leave,  if  of  a  lady,  you  should  say,  '  My 
lady,  I  place  myself  at  your  feet ;  '  to  which  she  will  reply, 
'  I  kiss  your  hand,  sir.'  " 

From  .what  has  gone  before,  such  origins  and  such  char- 
acters of  forms  of  address  might  be  anticipated.  Along 
with  other  ways  of  propitiating  the  victor,  the  master,  the 
ruler,  will  naturally  come  speeches  which,  beginning  with 
confessions  of  defeat  by  verbal  assumptions  of  its  attitude, 
will  develop  into  varied  phrases  acknowledging  servitude. 
The  implication,  therefore,  is  that  forms  of  address  in  gen- 
eral, descending  as  they  do  from  these  originals,  will  ex- 
press, clearly  or  vaguely,  ownership  by,  or  subjection  to, 
the  person  addressed. 

§  393.  Of  propitiatory  speeches  there  are  some  which, 
instead  of  describing  the  prostration  entailed  by  defeat, 
describe  the  resulting  state  of  being  at  the  mercy  of  the 
person  addressed.  One  of  the  strangest  of  these  occurs 
among  the  cannibal  Tupis.  While,  on  the  one  hand,  a 
warrior  shouts  to  his  enemy- — "  May  every  misfortune  come 
upon  thee,  my  meat!  "  on  the  other  hand,  the  sj>eech  re- 
quired from  the  captive  Hans  Stade  on  approaching  a  dwell- 
ing, was — "  I,  your  food,-  have  come:  "  that  is — m}^  life  is 
at  your  disposal.  Then,  again,  instead  of  profess- 

ing to  live  only  by  perndssion  of  the  superior,  actual  or  pre- 
tended, who  is  spoken  to,  we  find  the  speaker  professing  to 
be  personally  a  chattel  of  his,  or  to  be  holding  property  at 
his  disposal,  or  both.  Africa,  Asia,  Polynesia,  and  Europe, 
furnish  examples.  "  When  a  stranger  enters  the  house  of  a 
Serracolet  (Inland  J^egro),  he  goes  out  and  says — '  White 


140  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

man,  my  house,  my  wife,  my  children  behmg  to  thee.'  " 
Around  Delhi,  if  you  ask  an  inferior  "  '  Whose  horse  is 
that? '  he  says  '  Slave's,'  meaning;  his  own;  or  he  may  say 
— '  It  is  your  highnesses','  meaning  that,  being  his,  it  is  at 
your  disposal."  In  the  Sandwich  Islands  a  chief,  asked  re- 
specting the  ownership  of  a  house  or  canoe  possessed  by  him, 
replies — "  It  is  yours  and  mine."  In  France,  in  the  fif- 
teenth century,  a  comjtlimontary  speech  made  by  an  abbe  on 
his  knees  to  the  ipieen  when  visiting  a  monastery  was — 
"  We  resign  and  offer  up  the  abbey  with  all  that  is  in  it,  our 
bodies,  as  our  goods."  And  at  the  present  time  in  Spain, 
where  politeness  reipiircs  that  anything  admired  by  a  visitor 
shall  be  offered  to  him,  "  the  correct  place  of  dating  [a  let- 
ter] from  should  be  .  .  .  from  this  your  house,  wherever 
it  is;  you  must  not  say  from  this  iny  house,  as  you  mean  to 
place  it  at  the  dis])osition  of  your  correspondent." 

But  these  modes  of  addressing  a  real  or  fictitious  supe- 
rior, indirectly  asserting  subjection  to  him  in  body  and 
effects,  are  secondary  in  importance  to  the  direct  assertions 
of  shiA'cry  and  se]'\itu(l(';  which,  beginning  in  barbarous 
days,  have  persisted  down  to  the  present  time. 

§  394.  Hebrew  narratives  have  familiarized  us  with  the 
word  "  servant,"  as  a])])lied  to  himself  l)v  a  subject  or  in- 
ferior, when  speaking  to  a  ruler  or  superior.  In  our  days 
of  freedom,  the  associations  established  by  daily  habit  have 
obscured  the  fact  that  "  servant"  as  used  in  translations  of 
old  records,  means  "  slave  " — implies  the  (-ondition  fallen 
into  by  a  captive  taken  in  war.  Consequently  wlien,  as 
often  in  the  Bible,  the  ])hrases  "  thy  servant  "  or  "  tiiy 
servants  "  are  uttered  before  a  king,  they  must  be  taken  to 
signify  that  same  state  of  subjugation  which  is  more  cir- 
cuitously  sigTiified  by  the  phrasers  (pioted  in  the  last  sec- 
tion. Clearly  this  self-abasing  word  was  employed,  not  by 
attendants  only,  but  by  conquered  peoples,  and  by  sub- 
jects at  large;   as  we  see  when   the  nnknown    David,  a<l- 


FORMS   OP  ADDRESS.  147 

dressing  Saul,  describes  both  himself  and  his  father  as  Saul's 
servants.  And  kindred  uses  of  the  word  to  rulers  have  con- 
tinued down  to  modern  times. 

Very  early,  however,  professions  of  servitude,  originally 
made  only  to  one  of  supreme  authority,  came  to  be  made  to 
those  of  subordinate  authority.  Brought  before  Joseph  in 
Egypt,  and  fearing  him,  his  brethren  call  themselves  his 
servants  or  slaves;  and  not  oiily  so,  but  speak  of  their 
father  as  standing  in  a  like  relation  to  him.  Moreover, 
there  is  evidence  that  this  form  of  address  extended  to  the 
intercourse  between  equals  where  a  favour  was  to  be 
gained;  as  witness  Jiulges  xix.  10.  And  we  have  seen  in 
the  last  section  that  even  still  in  India,  a  man  shows  his 
politeness  by  calling  himself  the  slave  of  the  person  ad- 
dressed. How  in  Europe  a  like  diffusion  has  taken  place, 
need  not  be  shown  furtlier  than  by  exemplifying  some  of 
the  stages.  Among  Erench  courtiers  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury it  was  common  to  say — "  I  am  your  servant  and  the 
perpetual  slave  of  your  house;  "  and  among  ourselves  in 
past  times  there  were  used  such  indirect  expressions  of 
servitude  as — "  Yours  to  command,"  "  Ever  at  your  wor- 
ship's disposing,"  "  In  all  serviceable  humbleness,"  c*cc. 
While  in  our  days,  rarely  made  orally  save  in  irony,  such 
forms  have  left  only  their  written  representatives — "  Your 
obedient  servant,"  "  Your  luimble  servant;  "  reserved  for 
occasions  when  distance  is  to  be  maintained,  and  for  this 
reason  often  having  inx'crted  meanings. 

That  for  religious  jmrposes  the  same  propitiatory  words 
are  employed,  is  a  familiar  truth.  In  Hebrew  history  men 
are  described  as  servants  of  God,  just  as  they  are  described 
as  servants  of  the  king.  Neighbouring  peoples  are  said 
to  serve  their  respective  deities  just  as  slaves  are  said  to 
serve  tlieir  masters.  And  there  are  cases  in  which  these 
relations  to  the  visible  ruler  and  to  the  invisible  ruler,  are 
expressed  in  like  ways;  as  where  we  read  that  "The  king 
hath  fulfilled  the  request  of  his  servant,"  and  elsewhere 


148  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

that  "  The  Lord  hath  rockx^ned  his  servant  Jacob.'"  Hence 
as  used  in  worship,  the  ex})ression  "  thy  servant  "  has  orig- 
inated as  have  all  other  elements  of  religious  ceremonial. 

And  lun-e  better  than  elsewhere,  may  be  noted  the  fact 
that  the  phrase  "  thy  son,"  used  to  a  ruler  or  superior,  or 
other  person,  is  originally  equivalent  to  ''  thy  servant." 
On  remembering  that  in  rude  societies  children  exist  only 
on  sufferance  of  their  parents;  and  that  in  patriarchal 
groups  the  father  had  life  and  death  power  over  his  chil- 
dren; we  see  that  professing  to  be  another's  son  was  like 
professing  to  be  his  servant  or  slave.  There  are  ancient 
examples  demonstrating  the  equivalence;  as  when  "  Ahaz 
sent  messengers  to  Tiglath-pileser  king  of  Assyria,  saying, 
I  am  thy  servant  and  thy  son:  come  up  and  save  me.'' 
Mediaeval  Europe  furnished  instances  when,  as  we  saw, 
rulers  offered  themselves  for  adoption  by  more  powerful 
rulers:  so  assuming  the  condition  of  filial  servitude  and 
calling  themselves  sons;  as  did  Theodebert  I.  and  Childe- 
bert  II.  to  the  emperors  Justinian  and  ^lanriee.  •  Xor  does 
there  lack  evidence  that  this  expression  of  subordination 
spreads  like  the  rest,  until  it  becomes  a  complimentary  form 
of  speech.  At  the  present  time  in  India,  the  man  who  in 
compliment  professes  to  be  your  slave,  will,  on  introducing 
his  son  say, — "  This  is  yonr  highness's  son."  And  "  a 
"Samoan  cannot  use  more  persuasive  language  than  to  call 
himself  the  son  of  the  person  addressed." 

§  395.  From  those  ('(nupliuu'ntai'y  phrases  which  ex- 
press abasement  of  self,  we  ])ass  to  those  wliidi  exalt  an- 
other. Either  kind  taken  alone,  is  a  confession  of  rehitive 
inferiority;  and  this  confession  gains  in  emphasis  when  the 
two  kinds  are  joined,  as  they  commonly  are. 

At  first  it  does  not  seem  likely  that  eulogies  nuiy,  like 
other  propitiations,  be  traced  back  to  the  behaviour  of  the 
conquered  to  the  con(|ueror;  but  we  have  proof  that  they 
do  thus  oi'iginate,  eerlainly  in  some  cases.    To  the  victorious 


FORMS   OF  ADDRESS.  149 

Ramses  II.  liis  defeated  foes  preface  their  prayers  for  mercy 
by  the  laudatory  words — "  Prince  guarding  the  army, 
valiant  with  the  sword,  bulwark  of  his  troops  in  day  of  bat- 
tle, king  mighty  of  strength,  great  Sovran,  Sun  powerful 
in  truth,  approved  of  Ra,  mighty  in  victories,  Ramses  Mia- 
mon."  Obviously  there  is  no  separation  between  such 
praises  uttered  by  the  vanquished,  and  those  afterwards 
coming  from  them  as  a  subject  people.  We  pass  without 
break  to  glorifying  words  like  those  addressed  to  the  king 
of  Siam — "Mighty  and  august  lord!  Divine  Mercy!" 
"  The  Divine  Order!  "  "The  Master  of  Life!  "  "  Sover- 
eign of  the  Earth!  "  or  those  addressed  to  the  Sultan — 
"  The  Shadow  of  God!  "  "  Glory  of  the  Universe!  "  or  those 
addressed  to  the  Chinese  Emperor — "  Son  of  Heaven !  " 
"  The  Lord  of  Ten  Thousand  Years !  "  or  those  some  years 
since,  addressed  by  the  Bulgarians  to  the  emperor  of  Russia 
—"  O  blessed  Czar!  "  "  Blissful  Czar!  "  "  Orthodox  pow- 
erful Czar!  "  or  those  with  which,  in  the  past,  speeches  to 
the  French  monarch  commenced — "  O  very  benign!  O 
Very  great!  O  very  merciful!  "  And  then  along  with  these 
propitiations  by  direct  flattery,  there  go  others  in  which  the 
flattery  is  indirectly  conveyed  by  affected  admiration  of 
whatever  the  ruler  says;  as  when  the  courtiers  of  the  king 
of  Delhi  held  up  their  hands  crying — "  Wonder,  wonder !  " 
after  any  ordinary  speech;  or  in  broad  day,  if  he  said  it 
was  night,  responded — "  Behold  the  moon  and  the  stars!  " 
or  as  when  Russians  in  past  times  exclaimed — "  God  and 
the  prince  have  willed!  "  "  God  and  the  prince  know!  " 
Eulogistic  phrases  first  used  to  supreme  men,  descend  to 
men  of  less  authority,  and  so  downwards.  Examples  may 
be  taken  from  those  current  in  France  during  the  sixteenth 
century — to  a  cardinal,  "  the  very  illustrious  and  very 
reverend ;  "  to  a  marquis,  "  my  very  illustrious  and  much- 
honoured  lord ;  "  to  a  doctor,  "  the  virtuous  and  excellent." 
And  from  our  own  past  days  may  be  added  such  compli- 
mentary forms  of  address  as — "  the  right  worshipful,"  to 
68 


150  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

kniglits  aiul  soniotiiucs  to  esquires;  "  the  right  nobk^," 
"  the  hoiioiirabk'-iuinthHl,"  used  to  gentk'uieu;  and  eveu 
to  men  adch-essed  as  ^Mr.,  such  laudatory  i)retixes  as  *'  the 
worthy  and  worshij)fuL"  Along  with  llattering  epithets 
there  spread  more  involved  flatteries,  especially  observable 
in  the  East,  where  both  are  extreme.  On  a  Chinese  in- 
vitation-card the  usual  compliment  is — ''  To  what  an  ele- 
vation of  splendour  will  your  presence  assist  us  to  rise!  '' 
Tavernier,  from  whom  I  have  quoted  the  above  example 
of  scarcely  credible  flattery  from  the  Court  of  Delhi,  adds, 
"  this  vice  passeth  even  unto  the  people;  "  and  he  says  that 
his  military  attendant,  compared  to  the  greatest  of  con- 
querors, was  described  as  making  the  world  tremble  when 
he  mounted  his  horse.  In  these  parts  of  India  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  an  ordinary  official  is  addressed — "  My  lord,  there 
are  only  two  wdio  can  do  anything  for  me:  God  is  the  flrst, 
and  you  are  the  second;  "  or  sometimes,  as  a  correspondent 
writes  to  me — "  '  Above  is  God,  and  your  honour  is  below;  ' 
'  Your  honour  has  power  to  do  anything;  '  '  You  are  our 
king  and  lord;  '  '  You  are  in  God's  place.'  " 

On  reading  that  in  Tavernier's  time  a  usual  expression 
in  Persia  was — "  Let  the  king's  wull  be  done,"  recalling  the 
parallel  expression — "  Let  God's  will  be  done,"  we  are 
reminded  that  various  of  the  glorifying  speeches  made  to 
kings  parallel  those  made  to  deities.  AVhere  the  militant 
type  is  highly  developed,  and  where  divinity  is  ascribed  to 
the  monarch,  not  only  after  death  but  before,  as  of  old  in 
Egypt  and  Peru,  and  as  now  in  Japan,  C^hina,  and  Siam,  it 
naturally  results  that  the  eulogies  of  visible  rulers  and  of 
rulers  who  have  become  invisible,  are  the  same.  Having 
reached  the  extreme  of  hy])erb()le  to  the  king  when  living, 
they  cannot  go  further  to  the  king  when  dead  and  deified. 
And  the  identity  thus  initiated  continues  through  subse- 
(pient  stages  with  deities  whose  origins  are  no  longer  trace- 
able. 


FORMS  OF  ADDRESS.  151 

§  COG.  Into  tlie  complete  obeisance  we  saw  that  there 
enter  two  elements,  one  implying  submission  and  the  other 
implying  love;  and  into  the  complete  form  of  address  two 
analogous  elements  enter.  With  w^ords  employed  to  pro- 
pitiate by  abasing  self  or  elevating  the  person  addressed,  or 
both,  are  joined  words  suggestive  of  attachment  to  him — 
wishes  for  his  life,  health,  and  happiness. 

Professions  of  interest  in  another's  well-being  and  good 
fortune  are,  indeed,  of  earlier  origin  than  ])rofessions  of 
subjection.  Just  as  those  huggings  and  hissings  which 
indicate  liking  are  used  as  complimentary  observances  by 
ungoverned,  or  little-governed,  savages,  who  have  no  obei- 
sances; so,  friendly  speeches  precede  speeches  expressing 
subordination.  By  the  Snake  Indians,  a  stranger  is  accosted 
with  the  words — ''  I  am  nnicli  pleased,  I  am  much  re- 
joiced; "  and  among  the  Araucanians,  whose  social  organ- 
ization, though  more  advanced,  has  not  yet  been  developed 
by  militancy  into  the  coercive  t^qie,  the  formality  on  meet- 
ing, which  ''  occupies  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,"  consists  of 
detailed  inquiries  about  the  welfare  of  each  and  his  belong- 
ings, with  elaborate  felicitations  and  condolences. 

Of  course  this  element  of  the  salutation  persists  while 
there  grow  up  the  acts  and  phrases  expressing  subjection. 
We  saw  that  along  with  servile  obeisances,  good  wishes  and 
congratulations  are  addressed  to  a  superior  among  Xegro 
nations;  and  among  the  Fulahs  and  the  Abyssinians  they 
are  elaborate.  It  is  in  Asia,  however,  that  the  highest 
developments  of  them  occur.  Beginning  with  such  hyper- 
bolic speeches  as — ^'  O  king,  live  for  ever!  "  we  descend  to 
speeches  between  ecjuals  which,  in  like  exaggerated  ways, 
signify  great  sympathy;  as  among  the  Arabs,  who  indicate 
their  anxiety  by  rapidly  repeating — ''  Thank  God,  how  are 
you?"  for  some  minutes,  and  who,  when  well-bred,  occa- 
sionally interrupt  the  subsequent  conversation  by  again 
asking — "  How  are  you? "  or  as  among  the  Chinese,  who 
on   an   ordinarv  visitinc;  billet  write — "  The   tender   and 


152  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

• 

sincere  friend  of  your  lordsliip,  mid  tlu^  perpetual  disciple 
of  your  doctrine,  presents  hiuiseif  to  pay  lii.s  duty  and  make 
his  reverence  even  to  the  earth."  In  Western  societies, 
less  despotically  governed,  professions  of  liking  and  soli- 
citude have  been  less  exagiiorated ;  and  they  have  decreased 
as  freedom  has  increased.  In  ancient  France,  at  the  royal 
table,  "  every  time  the  herald  cried — '  The  king  drinks!  ' 
everv  one  made  vteux  and  cried — ^  Lono;  live  the  kina'!  '  " 
And  though  both  abroad  and  at  home  the  same  or  an  allied 
speech  is  still  used,  it  recurs  with  nothing  like  the  same  fre- 
quency. So,  too,  is  it  with  the  good  wishes  expressed  in 
social  intercourse.  The  exclamation — "  Long  life  to  your 
honour!  "  may,  indeed,  still  be  heard;  but  it  is  heard 
among  a  people  who,  till  late  times  under  personal  rule,  are 
even  now  greatly  controlled  by  their  loyalty  to  representa- 
tives of  old  families.  And  in  parts  of  the  kingdom  longer 
emancipated  from  feudalism  and  disciplined  by  industrial- 
ism, the  ordinary  expressions  of  interest,  abridged  to  '"  How 
do  you  do?  "  and  "  Good-bye,"  are  uttered  in  a  manner 
implying  not  much  more  interest  than  is  felt. 

Along  with  phrases  in  which  divine  aid  is  invoked  on 
behalf  of  the  person  saluted,  as  in  the  "  May  God  grant  you 
his  favours  "  of  the  Arab,  "  God  keep  you  well "  of  the 
Hungarian,  "  God  protect  you  "  of  the  Xegro;  and  along 
with  those  which  express  sympathy  by  inrpiiries  after  health 
and  fortune,  which  are  also  widespread;  there  are  some 
which  take  their  characters  from  surrounding  conditions. 
One  is  the  oriental  "  Peace  be  with  you,"  descending  from 
turbulent  times  when  peace  was  the  great  desideratum  • 
another  is  the  "How  do  you  perspire?"  alleged  of  the 
Egyptians;  and  a  still  more  curious  one  is  "  How  have  the 
mosquitoes  used  you?"  which,  according  to  Iliindxtldt,  is 
the  morning  salute  ou  the  Orinoco. 

§  397.  There  remain  to  be  noted  those  modifications  of 
language,  grammatical  and  other,  which,  by  implication. 


FORMS   OF  ADDRESS.  153 

exalt  the  person  addressed  or  abase  the  person  addressing. 
These  have  certain  analogies  with  other  elements  of  cere- 
mony. We  have  seen  that  where  subjection  is  extreme, 
the  ruler,  if  he  does  not  keep  himself  invisible,  must,  when 
present,  not  be  looked  at;  and  from  the  idea:  that  it  is  an 
unpardonable  liberty  to  gaze  at  the  supreme  person,  there 
has  arisen  in  some  countries  the  usage  of  turning  the  back 
on  a  superior.  Similarly,  the  practice  of  kissing  the  ground 
before  one  who  is  reverenced,  or  kissing  some  object  be- 
longing to  him,  implies  that  the  subject  is  so  remote  in  sta- 
tion, that  he  may  not  take  the  liberty  of  kissing  even  the 
foot  or  the  dress.  And  in  a  kindred  spirit,  the  linguistic 
forms  used  in  compliment  have  the  trait  that  they  avoid 
direct  relations  with  the  individual  addressed. 

Such  forms  make  their  appearance  in  comparative!}' 
early  social  stages.  Of  the  superior  people  among  the  Abi- 
pones,  we  read  that  "  the  names  of  men  belonging  to  this 
class  end  in  ini  those  of  the  women,  who  also  jiartake  of 
these  honours,  in  en.  These  syllables  you  must  add  even  to 
substantives  and  verbs  in  talking  with  them."  Again,  "  the 
Samoan  language  contains  '  a  distinct  and  permanent  vo- 
cabulary of  words  which  politeness  requires  to  be  made  use 
of  to  superiors,  or  on  occasions  of  ceremony.'  "  By  the 
Javans,  "  on  no  account  is  any  one,  of  whatever  rank,  al- 
lowed to  address  his  superior  in  the  common  or  vernacular 
language  of  the  country."  And  of  the  ancient  Mexican 
language  Gallantin  says,  there  is  "  a  special  form,  called 
Keverential,  which  pervades  the  whole  language,  and  is 
found  in  no  other  .  .  .  this  is  believed  to  be  the  only  one 
[language]  in  which  every  word  uttered  by  the  inferior 
reminds  him  of  his  social  position." 

The  most  general  of  the  indirectnesses  which  etiquette 
introduces  into  forms  of  address,  apparently  arise  from 
the  primitive  superstition  about  proper  names.  Conceiving 
that  a  man's  name  is  part  of  his  individuality,  and  that  pos- 
session of  his  name  gives  power  over  him,  savages  almost 


154  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ovorvwliorc  aro  roluctaiit  to  disrlose  naiiu's.  Wliother  this 
is  the  sole  cause,  oi-  wliL'ther,  apart  from  this,  uttoraiice  of 
a  man's  name  is  felt  to  be  a  liberty  taken  with  him,  the  fact 
is  that  among  rude  peoples  names  acquire  a  kind  of  sacred- 
ness,  and  taking-  a  name  in  vain  is  interdicted:  especially 
to  inferiors  when  speaking  to  superiors.  Hence  a  curious 
incidental  result.  As  in  early  stages  pereonal  names  aro 
derived  from  objects,  the  names  of  objects  have  to  be  dis- 
used and  replaced  by  others.  Among  the  Kaffirs  ''  a  wife 
may  not  publicly  pronounce  the  i-gama  [the  name  given 
at  birth]  of  her  husband  or  any  of  his  brothers;  nor  may 
she  use  the  interdicted  word  in  its  ordinary  sense.  ,  .  . 
The  chief's  i-gania  is  withdrawn  from  the  language  of  his 
people."  Again,  "  the  hereditary  appellation  of  the  chief 
of  Pango-Pango  [in  Samoa]  being  now  jSIaunga,  or  Moun- 
tain, that  word  must  never  be  used  for  a  hill  in  his  pres- 
ence, but  a  courtly  term  .  .  .  substituted."  And  thou 
where  there  exist  proper  names  of  a  developed  kind,  there 
are  still  kindred  restrictions  on  the  general  use  of  them; 
as  in  Siam,  where  "  the  name  of  the  king  must  not  be 
uttered  by  a  subject:  he  is  always  referred  to  by  a  peri- 
phrasis, such  as  ^  the  master  of  life,'  '  the  lord  of  the  land,' 
'  the  supreme  head; '  "  and  as  in  China,  where  "  the  '  old 
man  of  the  house,'  '  excellent  honourable  one,'  and  '  ven- 
erable great  prince,'  are  terms  used  by  a  visitor  to  desig- 
nate the  father  of  his  host." 

Similarly,  there  is  avoidance  of  persoual  pronouns; 
which  also  establish  with  the  individual  addnisscd  a  rela- 
tion too  immediate  to  be  allowed  where  distance  is  to  bo 
maintained.  In  Siam,  when  asking  the  king's  commands, 
the  pronominal  form  is,  as  much  as  possible,  evaded;  and 
that  this  usage  is  general  among  the  Siamese  is  implied  by 
the  remark  of  Pore  Bruguiero,  that  "  they  have  personal 
pronouns,  but  rarely  use  them."  lu  (^hina,  also,  this  stylo 
descends  into  ordinary'  intercourse.  "  If  they  are  not  inti- 
mate friends,  they  never  say  T  aud  You,  which  would  be  a 


FORMS  OF  ADDRESS.  155 

gross  ineivilit}'.  But  instead  of  saying,  I  am  very  sensible 
of  the  service  you  have  done  me,  they  will  say,  The  service 
that  the  Lord  or  the  Doctor  has  done  for  his  meanest  Ser- 
vant, or  his  Scholar,  has  greatly  affected  me." 

We  come  next  to  those  perversions  in  the  uses  of  pro- 
nouns which  raise  the  superior  and  lower  the  inferior. 
"  *  I '  and  '  me  '  are  expressed  by  several  terms  in  Siamese; 
as  (1)  between  a  master  and  slave;  (2)  between  a  slave  and 
master;  (3)  between  a  commoner  and  a  nobleman;  (4) 
between  persons  of  equal  rank;  while  there  is,  lastly,  a 
form  of  address  which  is  only  used  by  the  priests."  Still 
n\pre  developed  has  this  system  been  by  the  Japanese. 
"  In  Japan  all  classes  have  an  '  I '  peculiar  to  themselves, 
which  no  other  class  may  use;  and  there  is  one  exclusively 
appropriated  by  the  Mikado  .  .  .  and  one  confined  to 
women.  .  .  .  There  are  eight  pronouns  of  the  second  per- 
son peculiar  to  servants,  pupils,  and  children."  Though 
throughout  the  West,  the  distinctions  established  by  abus- 
ing pronominal  forms  have  been  less  elaborated,  yet  they 
have  been  well  marked.  By  Germans  "  in  old  times  .  .  . 
all  inferiors  were  spoken  to  in  the  third  person  singular,  as 
'  er  ' :  "  that  is,  an  oblique  form  by  which  the  inferior  was 
referred  to  as  though  not  present,  served  to  disconnect  him 
from  the  speaker.  And  then,  conversely,  "  inferiors  invari- 
ably use  the  third  person  plural  in  addressing  their  supe- 
riors: "  a  mode  which,  while  dignifying  the  superior  by 
pluralization,  increases  the  distance  of  the  inferior  by  its 
relative  indirectness;  and  a  mode  which,  beginning  as  a 
propitiation  of  those  in  power,  has,  like  the  rest,  spread 
till  it  has  become  a  general  propitiation.  In  our  own 
speech,  lacking  such  misuse  of  pronouns  as  humiliates, 
there  exists  only  that  substitution  of  the  "  you  "  for  the 
"  thou,"  which,  once  a  complimentary  exaltation,  has  now 
by  diffusion  wholly  lost  its  ceremonial  meaning.  That  it 
retained  some  ceremonial  meaning  at  the  time  when  the 
Quakers  persisted  in  using  "  thou  "  is  clear;  and  that  in 


156  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

still  earlier  times  it  was  emplo^'cd  to  ascribe  dignity,  is  in- 
ferable from  the  fact  that  diirino;  the  Meroviniiian  jieriod 
in  France,  the  kings  orjcreil  that  they  should  be  addressed 
in  the  plural.  AVhoever  fails  to  think  that  calling  him 
"  you,"  once  served  to  exalt  the  ])erson  addressed,  will  be 
aided  by  contemplating  this  perversion  of  speech  in  its 
primitive  and  more  emphatic  shape;  as  in  Samoa,  where 
they  say  to  a  chief — '"  Have  i/ou  hvo  come?  "  or  "  Are  you 
two  going?  " 

§  398.  Since  they  state  in  words  what  obeisances  ex- 
press by  acts,  forms  of  address  of  course  have  the  same  gep- 
eral  relations  to  social  types.  The  parallelisms  must  be 
noted. 

Speaking  of  the  Dacotahs,  who  are  politically  unorgan- 
ized, and  who  had  not  even  nominal  chiefs  till  the  whites  be- 
gan to  make  distinctions  among  them.  Burton  says — "  Cere- 
mony and  manners  in  our  sense  of  the  word  they  have 
none;  "  and  he  instances  the  entrance  of  a  Dacotah  into. a 
stranger's  house  with  a  mere  exclamation  meaning  "  Well." 
Bailey  remarks  of  the  Veddahs  that  in  addressing  others, 
"  they  use  none  of  the  honorifics  so  profusely  common  in 
Singhalese;  the  pronoim  '  to^  '  thou,'  being  alone  used, 
whether  they  are  addressing  each  other  or  those  whose  posi- 
tion would  entitle  them  to  outward  respect."  These  cases 
will  sufficiently  indicate  the  general  fact  that  where  there  is 
no  subordination,  speeches  which  elevate  the  person  spoken 
to  and  abase  the  person  speaking,  do  not  arise.  Con- 

versely, where  personal  government  is  absolute,  verbal 
self-himiiliations  and  verbal  exaltations  of  others  assume 
exaggerated  forms.  Among  the  Siamese,  who  arc  all  slaves 
of  the  king,  an  inferior  calls  himself  dust  under  the  feet 
of  a  superior,  while  ascril)ing  to  the  sujierior  transcendent 
powers;  and  the  forms  of  address,  even  between  equals, 
avoid  naming  the  person  addressed.  In  China,  where  there 
is  no  check  on  the  power  of  the  "  Imperial  Supreme,"  the 


FORMS   OF   ADDRESS.  157 

phrases  of  adulation  and  humility,  first  used  in  intercourse 
with  rulers  and  afterwards  spreading,  have  elaborated  to 
such  extremes  that  in  inquiring  another's  name  the  form  is 
— "  Mav  I  presume  to  ask  what  is  your  noble  surname  and 
your  eminent  name;  "  while  the  reply  is — "  The  name  of 

my  cold  (or  poor)  family  is ,  and  my  ignoble  name 

is ."    If  we  ask  where  ceremony  has  initiated  the  most 

elaborate  misuses  of  pronouns,  we  find  them  in  Japan, 
where  wars  long  ago  established  a  despotism  which  acquired 
divine  prestige. 

Similarly,  on  contiiasting  the  Europe  of  past  times,  char- 
acterized by  social  structures  developed  by,  and  fitted  for, 
perpetual  fighting,  with  modern  Europe,  in  which,  though 
fighting  on  a  large  scale  occurs,  it  is  the  temporary  rather 
than  the  permanent  form  of  social  activity,  we  observe  that 
complimentary  expressions,  now  less  used,  are  also  now 
less  exaggerated.  J^or  does  the  generalization  fail  when 
we  compare  the  modern  European  societies  that  are  organ- 
ized in  high  degi^ees  for  war,  like  those  of  the  Continent, 
with  our  own  society,  not  so  well  organized  for  war;  or 
when  we  compare  the  regulative  parts  of  our  own  society, 
Avhicli  are  developed  by  militancy,  with  the  industrial 
parts.  Flattering  superlatives  and  expressions  of  devotion 
are  less  profuse  here  than  abroad;  and  much 'as  the  use 
of  complimentary  language  has  diminished  among  our  rul- 
ing classes  in  recent  times,  there  remains  a  greater  use  of  it 
among  them  than  among  the  industrial  classes:  especially 
those  of  the  industrial  classes  who  have  no  direct  relations 
with  the  ruling  classes. 

These  connexions  are  obviously,  like  previous  ones, 
necessary.  Should  any  one  say  that  along  \\-ith  the  en- 
forced obedience  which  military  organization  implies,  and 
which  characterizes  the  whole  of  a  society  framed  for  mili- 
tary action,  there  naturally  go  forms  of  address  not  express- 
ing submission;  and  if,  conversely,  he  should  say  that  along 
with  the  active  exchanging  of  goods  for  money,  and  services 


15S  CEREMONIAL   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

'f(~>r  wag'os,  freely  (>nrrie(l  on,  which  charaetorizcs  the  life  of 
ail  industrial  society,  there  naturally  go  exaggerated  eulo- 
gies of  others  and  servile  depreciations  of  self;  his  proposi- 
tion would  manifestly  be  absurd.  And  the  absurdity  of 
this  hypothetical  proposition  serves  to  bring  into  view  the 
truth  of  the  actual  proposition  opposed  to  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TITLES. 

§  399.  Adliering  tenaciously  to  all  his  elders  taught 
him,  the  primitive  man  deviates  into  novelty  only  through 
unintended  modifications.  Everyone  now  knows  that  lan- 
guages are  not  devised  but  evolve;  and  the  same  is  true 
of  usages.  To  many  proofs  of  this,  the  foregoing  chapters 
have  added  further  proofs. 

The  like  holds  of  titles.  Looked  at  as  now  existing, 
these  appear  artificial:  there  is  suggested  the  idea  that 
once  upon  a  time  they  were  consciously  settled.  But  this 
is  no  more  true  than  it  is  true  that  our  common  words  were 
once  consciously  settled.  uSTames  of  objects  and  qualities 
and  acts,  were  at  the  outset  directly  or  indirectly  descrip- 
tive; and  the  names  we  class  as  titles  were  so  too.  Just  as 
the  deaf-mute  who  calls  to  mind  a  person  he  means  by  mim- 
icking a  peculiarity,  has  no  idea  of  introducing  a  symbol;  so 
neither  has  the  savage  when  he  indicates  a  place  as  the  one 
where  the  kangai'oo  was  killed  or  the  one  where  the  cliff 
fell  down;  so  neither  has  he  when  he  suggests  an  individual 
by  referring  to  some  marked  trait  in  his  appearance  or  fact 
in  his  life ;  and  so  neither  has  he  when  he  gives  those  names, 
literally  descriptive  or  metaphorically  descriptive,  which 
now  and  again  develop  into  titles. 

The  very  conception  of  a  proper  name  grew  up  una- 
wares. Among  the  uncivilized  a  child  becomes  known  as 
"  Thunderstorm,"    or  "  jSTew    Moon,"    or    "  Father-come- 

159 


160  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

lioinc,"  sini})ly  from  the  habit  of  rc^'erring  to  an  event  which 
oceuiTcd  on  its  birthday,  as  a  way  of  raising-  the  thought  of 
the  particular  chihl  meant.  And  if  afterwards  it  gets  such 
a  name  as  "  Squaslidiead,"  or  "  I)irty-sa(hlle  "  (Dacotah 
names),  ''The  Great  Ai-chei-,"  or  "  He  who  runs  U])  the 
ITill  "  (Bhickfoot  names),  this  results  from  spontaneously 
using  an  alternative,  and  sometimes  better,  means  of  identi- 
fication. Evidently  the  like  has  happened  with  such  less 
needful  names  as  titles.  These  have  differentiated  from 
ordinary  proper  names,  by  being  descriptive  of  some  trait,- 
or  some  deed,  or  some  function,  held  in  honour. 

§  400.  ^"arious  savage  races  give  a  man  a  name  of  re- 
nown in  addition  to,  or  in  place  of,  the  name  by  which  he 
was  previously  known,  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  achieve- 
ment in  battle.  The  Tupis  furnish  a  good  illustration. 
"  The  founder  of  the  [cannibal]  feast  took  an  additional 
name  as  an  honourable  remembrance  of  what  had  been 
done,  and  his  female  relations  ran  through  the  house  shout- 
ing the  new  title."  And  of  these  same  people  Hans  Stade 
says, — "  So  many  enemies  as  one  of  them  slays,  so  uiany 
names  does  he  give  himself;  and  those  are  the  noblest 
among  thcui  who  have  many  such  names."  In  North 
America,  too,  when  a  young  CVeek  Indian  brings  his  first 
scalp,  he  is  dubbed  a  man  and  a  warrior,  and  receives  a 
"  war-name."  Among  the  people  of  ancient  Nicaragua, 
this  practice  had  established  a  general  title  for  such:  they 
called  one  who  had  killed  another  in  battle  tapaUquei  and 
cnhra  was  an  equivalent  title  given  by  the  Indians  of  the 
Isthmus. 

That  descriptive  names  of  honour,  thus  arising  during 
early  militancy,  become  in  some  cases  official  names,  we  see 
on  comparing  evidence  furnished  by  tAvo  sanguinary  and 
cannibal  societies  in  different  stages  of  advance.  In  Fiji, 
''  warriors  of  rank  receive  proud  titles,  such  as  '  the  divider 
of  '  a  district,  '  the  waster  of  '  a  coast,  '  the  depopulator  of  ' 


TITLES.  •  161 

an  island — the  name  of  tlie  place  in  question  being  affixed." 
And  tlien  in  ancient  Mexico,  the  names  of  offices  filled  by 
the  king's  brothers  or  nearest  relatives  were,  one  of  them, 
"  Cutter  of  men,"  and  another,  "  Shedcler  of  blood." 

Where,  as  among  the  Fijians,  the  conceived  distinction 
between  men  and  gods  is  vague,  and  the  formation  of  new 
gods  by  apotheosis  of  chiefs  continues,  we  find  the  gods 
bearing  names  like  those  given  during  their  lives  to  fero- 
cious warriors.  "  The  Woman-stealer,"  "  the  Brain-eater," 
"  the  Murderer,"  "  Fresh-from-slaughter,"  are  naturally 
such  divine  titles  as  arise  from  descriptive  naming  among 
ancestor-worshipping  cannibals.  That  sundry  titles  of  the 
gods  worshipped  by  superior  races  have  originated  in  a  kin- 
dred manner,  is  implied  by  the  ascription  of  conquests  to 
them.  Be  they  the  Egyptian  deities,  the  Babylonian  dei- 
ties, or  the  deities  of  the  Greeks,  their  power  is  represented 
as  having  been  gained  by  battle ;  and  with  accounts  of  their 
achievements  are  in  some  cases  joined  congruous  descrip- 
tive names,  such  as  that  of  Mars — "  the  Blood-stainer,"  and 
that  of  the  Hebrew  god — "  the  Violent  One;  "  which,  ac- 
cording to  Keunen,  is  the  literal  interpretation  of  Shaddai. 

§  401.  Very  generally  among  primitive  men,  instead  of 
the  literally-descriptive  name  of  honour,  there  is  given  the 
metaphoricall^'-deseriptive  name  of  honour.  Of  the  Tupis, 
whose  ceremony  of  taking  war-names  is  instanced  above, 
we  read  that  "  they  selected  their  appellations  from  visible 
objects,  i)ride  or  ferocity  influencing  their  choice."  That 
such  names,  first  spontaneously  given  by  applauding  com- 
panions and  afterwards  accorded  in  some  deliberate  way, 
are  apt  to  be  acquired  by  men  of  the  greatest  prowess,  and 
so  to  become  names  of  rulers,  is  suggested  by  what  Ximenez 
tells  us  respecting  the  semi-civilized  peoples  of  Guatemala. 
Their  king's  names  enumerated  by  him  are — "  Laughing 
Tiger,"  "Tiger  of  the  Wood,"'  "Oppressing  Eagle," 
"Eagle's  Head,"  "Strong  Snake."     Throughout  Africa 


1(32  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

the  like  Ims  liappoiicd.  Tlu^  king  of  Ashantce  lias  among 
his  glorif\4ng  names  "  Lion  ''  and  *'  Snake."  In  Dahomey, 
titles  thus  derivod  are  made  superlative:  the  king  is  "  the 
Lion  of  l^ions."  And  in  a  kin(h-ed  spirit  the  king  of  Lsam- 
bara  is  called  ''  Lion  of  Heaven:  "  a  title  whence,  should 
this  king  undergo  apotheosis,  myths  may  naturally  result. 
From  Zulu-land,  along  with  eviikuice  of  the  same  thing, 
there  comes  an  illustration  of  the  way  in  which  names  of 
honour  derived  from  imposing  objects,  animate  and  in- 
animate, are  joined  with  names  of  honour  otherwise  de- 
rived, and  pass  into  certain  of  those  forms  of  address  lately 
dealt  with.  The  titles  of  the  king  are — "  The  noble  ele- 
phant," "  Thou  who  art  for  ever,"  "  Thou  who  art  as  high 
as  the  heavens,"  *'  The  black  one,"  "  Thou  who  art  the 
bird  who  eats  other  birds,"  "  Thou  who  art  as  high  as  the 
mountains,"  c^c.  Shooter  shows  how  these  Zulu  titles  are 
used,  by  quoting  part  of  a  speech  adressed  to  the  king — 
""  You  mountain,  you  lion,  you  tiger,  you  that  arc  black. 
There  is  none  equal  to  you."  Further,  there  is  proof  that 
names  of  honour  thus  originating,  pass  into  titles  applied  to 
the  position  occupied,  rather  than  to  the  occupant  consid- 
ered personally;  for  a  Kaffir  chief's  wife  "  is  called  the  Ele- 
phantess,  while  his  great  wife  is  called  the  Lioness." 

Guided  by  such  clues,  Ave  cannot  miss  the  inference  that 
the  use  of  kindred  names  for  both  kings  and  gods  by  extinct 
historic  races,  similarly  arose.  If  we  find  that  now  in  Mada- 
gascar one  of  the  king's  titles  is  "  Mighty  l^ull,"  and  are 
reminded  by  this  that  to  the  conquering  Kamses  a  like 
hiudatory  name  was  given  by  defeated  foes,  we  may  reason- 
ably conclude  that  from  animal-names  thus  given  to  kings, 
there  resulted  the  animal-mimes  anciently  given  as  names 
of  honour  to  deities;  so  that  Apis  in  Fgypt  became  an 
equivalent  for  Osiris  and  the  Sun,  and  so  that  Bull  similarly 
became  an  equivalent  for  the  conquering  hero  and  Sun- 
god  Indra. 

\\  itli  titles  derived  fi'oiii  imposing  iiuuiimatc  olijects  it 


TITLES.  ■  163 

is  the  same.  "We  have  seen  how,  among  the  Zulus,  the  hy- 
perbolic compliment  to  the  king — "  Thou  who  art  as  high 
as  the  mountains,"  passes  from  the  form  of  simile  into  the 
form  of  metaphor  when  he  is  addressed  as  ''  you  Mountain." 
And  that  the  metaphorical  name  thus  used  sometimes  be- 
comes a  proper  name,  proof  conies  from  Samoa;  where,  as 
we  saw,  '*  the  chief  of  Pango-Pango  "  is  "  now  Maunga,  or 
Mountain."  There  is  evidence  that  by  sundry  ancestor- 
worshipping  peoples,  divine  titles  are  similarly  derived. 
The  Chinooks  and  Xavajos  and  Mexicans  in  Xorth  Amer- 
ica, and  the  Peruvians  in  South  America,  regard  certain 
mountains  as  gods;  and  since  these  gods  have  other  names, 
the  implication  is  that  in  each  case  an  apotheosized  man  had 
received  in  honour  either  the  general  name  Mountain,  or 
the  name  of  a  particular  mountain,  as  has  happened  in  Kew 
Zealand.  From  complimentary  comparisons  to  the  Sun,  re- 
sult not  only  personal  names  of  honour  and  di^'ine  names, 
but  also  official  titles.  On  reading  that  the  Mexicans  distin- 
guished Cortes  as  "  the  offspring  of  the  Sun,"  and  that  the 
(/"hibchas  called  the  Spaniards  in  general  "  children  of  the 
Sun," — on  reading  that  "  child  of  the  Sun  "  was  a  compli- 
mentary name  given  to  any  one  particularly  clever  in  Peru, 
where  the  Yncas,  regarded  as  descendants  of  the  Sun,  suc- 
cessively enjoyed  a  title  hence  derived;  we  are  enabled  to 
miderstand  how  "  Son  of  the  Sun  "  came  to  be  a  title  borne 
by  the  successive  Egyptian  kings,  joined  with  proper  names 
individually  distinctive  of  them.  In  elucidation  of  this  as 
well  as  of  sundry  other  ])oints,  let  me  add  an  account  of  a 
reception  at  the  court  of  Burmah  which  has  occurred  since 
the  foregoing  sentences  were  first  published:— 

"A  herald  lying  on  his  stomach  read  aloud  my  credentials.  The 
literal  translation  is  as  follows :  '  So-and-So,  a  great  newspaper  teach- 
er of  the  Daily  News  of  London,  tenders  to  his  Most  Glorious  Excel- 
lent Majesty,  Lord  of  the  Ishaddan,  King  of  Elephants,  master  of 
many  white  elephants,  lord  of  the  mines  of  gold,  silver,  rubies,  am- 
ber, and  the  noble  serpentine,  Sovereign  of  the  Empires  of  Thuua- 


104  •  CEREMOXIAL  TXSTITUTIOXS. 

paranta  and  Tampadipa,  and  other  great  em^Hres  and  countries,  and 
of  all  the  iimbreHa-weariujf  cliiefs,  tlie  supj)orter  of  religion,  the  Sun- 
descended  31onarch,  arbiter  of  life,  and  great,  righteous  King,  King 
of  Kings,  and  possessor  of  boundless  dominions  and  supreme  wis- 
dom, the  following  jjresents.'  The  reading  was  intoned  in  a  comical 
high  recitative,  strongly  resembling  that  used  when  our  Church  serv- 
ice is  intoned;  and  the  long-drawn  '  Phj-a-a-a-a-a '  (my  lord)  which 
concluded  it,  added  to  the  resemblance,  as  it  came  in  exactly  like 
the  'Amen'  of  the  Liturgy."  [Showing  tlie  kinship  in  religious 
worship.] 

Given,  then,  the  metapliorically-descriptive  name,  and 
we  have  the  germ  from  which  grow  np  these  primitive  titles 
of  hononr;  which,  at  first  individual  titles,  become  in  some 
cases  titles  attaching  to  the  offices  filled. 

§  402,  To  say  that  the  words  which  in  varions  lan- 
guages answer  to  our  word  "  God,"  were  originally  descrip- 
tive words,  will  be  startling  to  those  who,  unfamiliar  with 
the  facts,  credit  the  savage  with  thoughts  like  our  own;  and 
will  be  repugnant  to  those  who,  knowing  something  of  the 
facts,  yet  persist  in  asserting  tliat  the  conception  of  a  uni- 
versal creative  power  was  possessed  by  man  from  the  be- 
ginning. But  whoever  studies  the  evidence  without  bias, 
will  find  proof  that  the  general  word  for  deity  was  at  first 
simply  a  word  expressive  of  superiority.  Among  the  Fiji- 
ans  the  name  is  applied  to  anything  great  or  marvellous; 
among  the  Malagasy  to  whatever  is  ne^v,  useful,  or  extra- 
ordinary; among  the  Todas  to  everything  mysterious,  so 
that,  as  Marshall  says,  "  it  is  truly  an  adjective  noun  of 
eminence,"  Applied  alike  to  animate  and  inanimate 
things,  as  indicating  some  quality  above  the  common,  the 
word  is  in  this  sense  ai)])Hed  to  human  beings,  both  living 
and  dead;  but  as  the  dead  are  supposed  to  have  mysterious 
powers  of  doing  good  and  evil  to  the  living,  the  word  comes 
to  be  especially  ai)plicable  to  them'.  Though  ghost  and  god 
have  with  us  widely-distinguished  meanings,  yet  they  are 
originally  equivalent  words;   or  rather,  originally,  there  is 


TTILES.  %        165 

but  one  word  for  a  supernatural  being*.  And  since  in  early 
belief,  the  otlier-self  of  the  dead  man  is  equally  visible  and 
tangible  with  the  living  man,  so  that  it  may  be  slain, 
drowned,  or  otherwise  killed  a  second  time — since  the  re- 
semblance is  such  that  it  is  difficult  to  learn  what  is  the 
difference  between  a  god  and  a  chief  among  the  Fijians — 
since  the  instances  of  theophany  in  the  Iliad  prove  that  the 
Greek  god  was  in  all  respects  so  like  a  man  that  special 
insight  was  required  to  discriminate  him ;  we  see  how  natu- 
rally it  results  that  the  name  "  god,"  given  to  a  powerful 
being  thought  of  as  usually,  but  not  always,  invisible,  is 
sometimes  given  to  a  visible  powerful  being.  Indeed,  as  a 
sequence  of  this  theory,  it  inevitably  happens  that  men 
transcending  in  capacity  those  around  them,  are  suspected 
to  be  these  returned  ghosts  or  gods,  to  whom  special  powers 
are  ordinarily  ascribed.  Hence  the  fact  that,  considered  as 
the  doubles  of  their*  own  deceased  people,  Europeans  are 
called  ghosts  by  Australians,  New  Caledonians,  Darnley 
Islanders,  Kroomen,  Calabar  people,  Mpongwe,  &c.  Hence 
the  fact  that  they  are  called  by  the  alternative  name  gods  by 
Bushmen,  Bechuanas,  East  Africans,  Fulalis,  Khonds,  Fiji- 
ans, Dyaks,  Ancient  Mexicans,  Chibchas,  &c.  Hence  the 
fact  that,  using  the  word  in  the  above  sense,  superior  men 
among  some  uncivilized  peoples  call  themselves  gods. 

The  original  meaning  of  the  word  being  thus  under- 
stood, we  need  feel  no  surprise  on  finding  that  "  God  "  be- 
comes a  title  of  honour.  The  king  of  Loango  is  so  called  by 
his  subjects;  as  is  also  the  king  of  Msambara.  At  the  pres- 
ent time  among  wandering  Arabs,  the  name  "  God  "  is  ap- 
plied in  no  other  sense  than  as  the  generic  name  of  the  most 
powerful  living  ruler  known  to  them.  This  makes  more 
credible  than  it  might  else  be,  the  statement  that  the  Grand 
Lama,  personally  worshipped  by  the  Tartars,  is  called  by 
them  "  God,  the  Fatlicr."  It  is  in  harmony  with  such 
other  facts  as  that  Radama,  king  of  Madagascar,  is  addressed 
by  the  women  who  sing  his  praises  as — "O  our  God;" 
G9 


1G6        •  CEREMONIAL  IXSTITUTIOXS, 

and  tliat  to  the  Dahoman  king  the  ahernative  word  "  Spir- 
it "  is  used;  so  that,  when  he  summons  any  one,  the  messen- 
ger says — "  The  Spirit  requires  you,"  and  when  he  has 
spoken,  all  exclaim — "  The  Si)irit  speaketh  true."  All 
which  facts  make  comprehensible  that  assumption  of  06O9 
as  a  title  by  ancient  kings  in  the  East,  which  is  to  moderns  so 
astonishing. 

Descent  of  this  name  of  honour  into  ordinary  inter- 
course, though  not  common,  does  sometimes  occur.  After 
what  has  been  said,  it  will  not  appear  strange  that  it  should 
be  applied  to  deceased  persons;  as  it  was  by  the  ancient 
Mexicans,  who  "  called  any  of  their  dead  ieotl  so  and  so — 
i.  e.,  this  or  that  god,  this  or  that  saint."  And  prepared  by 
such  an  instance  we  shall  understand  its  occasional  use  as  a 
greeting  between  the  living.  ( ^olonel  Yule  says  of  the  Ka- 
sias,  "the  salutation  at  meeting  is  singular — '  Kuble!  oh 
God.'  " 

§  40P>.  The  connexion  between  "  God  "  as  a  title  and 
"  Father  "  as  a  title,  becomes  clear  on  going  back  to  those 
early  forms  of  conception  and  language  in  which  the  two 
are  undifferentiated.  The  fact  that  even  in  so  advanced  a 
language  as  Sanscrit,  words  which  mean  "  making,"  "  fab- 
ricating," "  begetting,"  or  "  generating,"'  are  indiscrim- 
inately used  for  the  same  purpose,  guggests  how  naturally  in 
the  primitive  mind,  a  father,  as  begetter  or  causer  of  new  be- 
ings, ceasing  at  death  to  be  visible,  is  then  associated  in  word 
and  thought  with  dead  and  invisible  causers  at  large,  wlio, 
some  of  them  accpiiring  i)re-eniinence,  come  to  be  regardeil 
as  causers  in  genei-al — makers  or  creators.  AVlien  Sir 
Rutherford  Alcock  remai-ks  tluit  "  a  spnrious  mixtnre  of 
the  theocratic  and  ])atriarclial  elements  form  the  bases  of 
all  government,  both  in  the  Celestial  and  tlie  Japanese 
Empires,  under  emperors  who  claim  not  only  to  be  each  the 
patriareli  and  father  of  his  ])eo])le,  but  also  Divine  de- 
scent; "  he  adds  another  to  the  misinterpretations  produced 


TITLES.  167 

by  descending  from  our  own  higher  conceptions,  instead  of 
ascending  from  the  lower  conceptions  of  the  primitive  man. 
For  what  he  thinks  a  "'  spurious  mixture  "  of  ideas  is,  in 
fact,  a  normal  union  of  ideas;  which,  in  the  cases  named, 
has  persisted  longer  than  commonly  happens  in  developed 
societies. 

The  Zulus  show  us  this  union  very  clearly.  They  have 
traditions  of  Unkulunkulu  (literally,  the  old,  old  one), 
*'  who  was  the  first  man,"  "  who  came  into  being  and  begat 
men,"  "  who  gave  origin  to  men  and  everything  besides  " 
(including  the  sun,  moon,  and  heavens),  and  who  is  inferred 
to  have  been  a  black  man  because  all  his  descendants  are 
black.  The  original  Unkulunkulu  is  not  worshipped  by 
them,  because  he  is  supposed  to  be  permanentl}'  dead;  but 
instead  of  him  the  Unkulunkulus  of  the  various  tribes  into 
which  his  descendants  have  divided,  are  severally  wor- 
shipped, and  severally  called  "  Father."  Heti'e,  then,  the 
ideas  of  a  Creator  and  a  Father  are  directly  connected. 
Equally  specific,  or  even  more  specific,  are  the  ideas  con- 
veyed in  the  response  which  the  ancient  XicaragTians  gave 
to  the  question — "  Who  made  heaven  and  earth?  "  After 
their  first  answers,  ''  Tamagastad  and  Cipattoval,"  "  our 
great  gods  whom  we  call  teotes^''  cross-examination  brought 
out  the  further  answers — ^'  Our  fathers  are  these  teotes  ;'''' 
"  all  men  and  women  descend  from  them;  "  ""  they  are  of 
flesh  and  are  man  and  woman;  "  "they  walked  over  the 
earth  dressed,  and  ate  what  the  Jndians  ate."  Gods  and 
first  parents  being  thus  identified,  fatherhood  and  divinity 
become  allied  ideas.  The  remotest  ancestor  supposed  to  be 
still  existing  in  the  other  world  to  which  he  went,  ''  the  old, 
old  one,"  or  "  ancient  of  days,"  becomes  the  chief  deity; 
and  so  "  father  "  is  not,  as  we  suppose,  a  metaphorical 
equivalent  for  "  god,"  but  a  literal  ecpiivalent. 

Therefore  it  happens  tliat  among  all  nations  we  find  it 
an  alternative  title.  In  the  before-cpiotcd  prayer  of  the 
Xew  Caledonian  to  the  ghost  of  his  ancestor — "  Compas- 


1G3  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

sioiiate  frttlier,  liere  is  some  food  for  yon;  oat  it;  bo  kind  to 
us  on  account  of  it  " — wo  aro  shown  that  orii>,inal  idciititi- 
eation  of  fatherhood  and  godhood,  to  whioli  all  niytholi)gios 
and  theologies  carry  us  back.  We  see  the  naturalness  of  the 
facts  that  the  Peruvian  Yncas  worshi])ped  their  father  the 
8nn;  that  Ptah,  the  hrst  of  the  dynasty  of  the  gods  who 
ruled  Egypt,  is  called  "  the  father  of  the  father  of  the 
gods;  "  and  that  Zeus  is  "  father  of  gods  and  men." 

After  contemplating  many  such  early  beliefs,  in  which 
the  divine  and  the  human  are  so  little- distinguished,  or 
after  studying  the  beliefs  still  extant  in  China  and  Jai)an, 
where  the  rulers,  "  sons  of  heaven,"  claim  descent  from 
these  most  ancient  fathers  or  gods;  it  is  easy  to  see  how 
the  name  father  in  its  higlier  sense,  comes  to  be  ap])lied  to 
a  living  potentate.  His  proximate  and  remote  ancestors 
being  all  spoken  of  as  fathers,  distinguished  only  by  the 
prefixes  grand,  great  .great,  &c.,  it  results  that  the  name 
father,  given  to  every  member  of  the  series,  comes  to  be 
given  to  the  last  of  the  series  still  living.  With  this  cause 
is  joined  a  further  cause.  AVliere  establisliment  of  descent 
in  the  male  line  has  initiated  the  patriarchal  family,  the 
name  father,  even  in  its  original  meaning,  comes  to  be 
associated  with  supreme  authority,  and  to  be  therefore  a 
name  of  honour.  Indeed,  in  nations  formed  by  the  com- 
pounding and  re-compounding  of  patriarchal  gi'oups,  the 
two  causes  coalesce.  The  remotest  known  ancestor  of  each 
compound  group,  at  onc^  the  most  ancient  father  and  the 
god  of  the  compound  grouj),  being  continuously  represented 
in  blood,  as  well  as  in  power,  by  the  oldest  descendant  of 
the  eldest,  it  hapjions  that  this  patriarch,  who  is  head  not 
of  his  own  group  only  but  also  of  the  compound  grouj), 
stands  to  both  in  a  relation  analogous  to  that  in  which  the 
apotheosized  ancestor  stands;  and  so  combines  in  a  measure 
the  divine  character,  the  kingly  character,  and  the  paternal 
character. 

Hence  the  pi"c\'al('iice  of  this  woi'd  as  a  royal  title.     It  is 


TITLES.  169 

used  equally  by  American  Indians  and  by  New  Zealanders 
in  addressing  the  rulers  of  tlie  civilized.  AVe  find  it  in 
Africa.  Of  the  various  names  for  the  king  among  the 
Zulus,  father  heads  the  list;  and  in  Dahomey,  when  the 
king  walked  from  the  throne  to  the  palace,  "  every  inequal- 
ity was  pointed  out,  with  finger  snappiiigs,  lest  it  might 
oifend  the  royal  toe,  and  a  running  accompaniment  of 
^Dadda!  Dadda!  '  (Grandfather!  Grandfather!)  and  of 
'Dedde!  Dcdde!  '  (softly!  softly!)  was  kept  up."  Asia 
supplies  cases  in  which  the  titles  "Lord  Raja  and  Lord 
Father  "  are  joined.  In  Russia,  at  the  present  time,  father 
is  a  name  applied  to  the  Czar;  and  of  old  in  France,  under 
the  form  sh^e,  it  was  the  common  name  for  potentates  of 
various  grades — feudal  lords  and  kings;  and  ever  continued 
to  be  a  name  of  address  to  the  throne.* 

More  readily  than  usual,  perhaps  from  its  double  mean- 
ing, has  this  title  been  diffused.  Everywhere  we  find  it  file- 
name for  any  kind  of  superior.  !Not  to  the  king  only  among 
the  Zulus  is  the  word  "  baba,"  father,  used;  but  also  by  in- 
feriors of  all  ranks  to  those  above  them.  In  Dahomey  a 
slave  applies  this  name  to  his  master,  as  his  master  applies  it 
to  the  king.  Livingstone  tells  us  that  he  was  referred  to  as 
"  our  father"  by  his  attendants;  as  also  was  Burchell  by 
the  Bachassins.  It  was  the  same  of  oM  in  the  East ;  as  when 
"  his  servants  came  near,  and  spake  unto  ISTaaman,  and . 
said.  My  father,"  &c, ;  and  it  is  the  same  in  the  remote 
East  at  the  present  time.  A  Japanese  "  apprentice  ad- 
dresses his  patron  as  '  father.'  "     In  Siam  "  children  of  the 

*  Thoiigli  the  disputes  respectinjr  tlie  origins  of  sire  and  .s;V«r  liave  ended  in 
the  conclusion  that  they  are  derived  from  the  same  root,  meaning  originally 
elder,  yet  it  has  become  clear  that  sire  was  a  contracted  form  in  use  earlier 
than  sieur  (the  contracted  form  of  seigneur),  and  hence  acquired  a  more  gen- 
eral meaning,  which  became  equivalent  to  father.  Its  applicability  to  rarious 
persons  of  dignity  besides  the  seigneur,  is  evidence  of  its  previous  evolution 
and  spread ;  and  that  it  had  a  meaning  equivalent  to  father,  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  in  early  French,  grant-sire  was  an  equivalent  for  grnnd-jiere,  and  also 
by  the  fact  that  sire  was  not  applicable  to  an  unmarried  man. 


170  CEREMOXIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

nobles  are  called  '  fatlior  and  motlier  '  l)_v  tlioir  subordi- 
natos."  And  Iliu'  narrates  how  he  saw  Chinese  labourers 
prostrating  themselves  before  a  mandarin  exehiiming — 
"  Peace  and  happiness  to  our  father  and  mother."  Then,  as 
a  stage  in  the  descent  to  more  general  use,  nuiv  be  noted  its 
extension  to  those  who,  apart  from  their  rank,  have  ac- 
quired the  superiority  ascribed  to  age:  a  superiority  some- 
times taking  precedence  of  rank,  as  in  Siam,  and  in  certain 
ways  in  Japan  and  China.  Such  extension  occurred  in  an- 
cient Rome,  wliere  pater  was  at  once  a  magisterial  title 
and  a  title  given  by  the  younger  to  the  elder,  whether  re- 
lated or  not.  In  Russia  at  the  present  time,  the  equivalent 
word  is  used  to  the  Czar,  to  a  priest,  and  to  any  aged 
man.  Eventually  it  spreads  to  young  as  well  as  old. 
Under  the  form  sire,  at  first  applied  to  feudal  rulers, 
major  and  minor,  the  title  "  father  "  originated  our  fa- 
miliar sir. 

A  curious  group  of  derivatives,  common  among  uncivil- 
ized and  semi-civilized  peoples,  must  be  named.  1'he  wish 
to  compliment  by  ascribing  that  dignity  which  fatherhood 
implies,  has  in  many  places  led  to  the  practice  of  replacing 
a  man's  proper  name  by  a  name  which,  while  it  recalls  this 
honourable  paternity,  distinguishes  him  by  the  name  of  his 
child.  The  Malays  have  ''  the  same  custom  as  the  Dyaks  of 
taking  the  name  of  their  first-born,  as  Pa  Sipi,  the  father 
of  Sipi."  The  usage  is  connnon  in  Sumatra;  and  equally 
prevails  in  Madagascar.  It  is  so  too  among  some  Indian 
Hill  tribes:  the  Kasias  "  address  each  other  by  the  names 
of  their  children,  as  Pabobon,  father  of  Bobon!  "  Africa 
also  furnishes  instances.  Beclnianas  addressing  Mr.  Moffat, 
used  to  say — "  I  s])eak  to  the  Father  of  ^lary."  And  in 
the  Pacific  States  of  North  Anici  ica  there  are  people  so  so- 
licitous to  bear  this  ])rimitive  name  of  hononr,  tliat  until 
a  young  man  has  children,  his  dog  stands  to  liim  in  the 
position  of  a  son,  and  lie  is  known  as  the  father  of  his 
dog. 


TITLES.  171 

§  404.  The  supremacy  associated  with  age  in  patri- 
archal groups,  and  in  societies  derived  by  composition  from 
patriarchal  groups,  shown  primarily  in  that  honouring  of 
parents  which,  as  in  the  Jewish  commandments,  is  put  next 
to  the  worship  of  God,  and  secondarily  in  the  honouring  of 
old  men  in  general,  gives  rise  to  a  kindred  but  divergent 
group  of  titles.  Age  being  digTiified,  words  inTlicating  sen- 
iority become  names  of  digTiity. 

The  beginnings  may  be  discerned  among  the  uncivil- 
ized. Counsels  being  formed  of  the  older  men,  the  local 
name  for  an  older  man  becomes  associated  in  thought  with 
an  office  of  power  and  therefore  of  honour.  Merely  noting 
this,  it  will  suffice  if  we  trace  in  European  language  the 
growth  of  titles  hence  resulting.  Among  the  Romans  seiia- 
tor,  or  member  of  the  senatus,  words  having  the  same  root 
with,  senex,  was  a  name  for  a  member  of  the  assembly  of 
elders;  and  in  early  times  these  senators  or  elders,  other- 
wise QoWedipatres,  represented  the  component  tribes :  father 
and  elder  being  thus  used  as  equivalents.  From  the  fur- 
ther cognate  word  senior,  we  have,  in  derived  languages, 
signior,  seigneur,  senhor  •  first  applied  to  head  men, 
rulers,  or  lords,  and  then  by  diffusion  becoming  names  of 
honour  for  those  of  inferior  rank.  The  same  thing  has 
happenel  with  ealdor  or  aldor.  Of  this  Max  Miiller 
says, — "  like  many  other  titles  of  rank  in  the  various  Teu- 
tonic tongues,  it  is  derived  from  an  adjective  implying 
age;  "  so  that  "  earl "  and  "  alderman,"  both  originat- 
ing froui  this  root,  are  names  of  honour  similarly  result- 
ing from  that  social  superiority  gained  by  advanced 
years. 

Whether  or  not  the  German  title  _(7r«/* should  be  added, 
is  a  moot  point.  Tf  Max  Miiller  is  right  in  considering  the 
objections  of  Grimm  to  the  current  interpretation  inade- 
quate, then  the  word  originally  means  grey;  that  is,  grey- 
headed. 


172  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§  405.  Wv  inav  dciil  hi'ictlv  with  the  remaining  titles; 
which  rc-illiisti'ate,  in  their  respective  ways,  the  general 
prineiple  set  forth. 

Like  other  names  of  honour  that  grew  np  in  early 
times,  the  name  "  king  "  is  one  concerning  the  formation  of 
which  there  are  differences  of  opinion.  By  general  agree- 
ment, however,  its  remote  source  is  the  Sanscrit  ganaka- 
and  "  in  Sanscrit,  ganaka  means  producing,  parent,  tlien 
king."  If  this  is  the  true  derivation,  we  have  sim]ily  an  al- 
ternative title  for  the  head  of  the  family-group,  of  the  patri- 
archal group,  and  of  the  cluster  of  patriarchal  groups. 
The  only  further  fact  respecting  it  calling  for  remark,  is  the 
way  in  which  it  becomes  com])ounded  to  produce  a  higher 
title.  Just  as  in  Hebrew,  Abram,  meaning  ''  high  father," 
came  to  be  a  compound  used  to  signify  the  fatherhood  and 
headship  of  any  minor  groups;  and  just  as  the  (J reek  and 
Latin  equivalents  to  our  patriarch,  signified  l)y  imjdication, 
if  not  directly,  a  father  of  fathers;  so  in  the  case  of  the  title 
"  king,"  it  has  hapi^ened  that  a  ])otentate  recognized  as 
dominant  over  numerous  ])otcntates,  has  in  many  cases 
been  descriptively  called  "  king  of  kings."  In  Abyssinia 
this  compound  royal  name  is  used  down  to  the  ])resent 
time;  as  we  lately  saw  that  it  is  also  in  Ihii-niah.  Ancient 
Egyptian  monaridis  assumed  it;  and  it  occurred  as  a  su- 
preme title  in  Assyria.  And  here  again  we  meet  a  cor- 
respondence between  terrestrial  and  celestial  titles.  As 
"  father  "  and  "'  king  "  are  a]ii)lied  in  connnon  to  the  vis- 
ible and  to  the  invisible  ruler;  so,  too,  is  "  king  of  kings." 

This  need  for  marking  by  some  additional  name  the 
ruler  who  becomes  head  over  many  rulers,  leads  to  the  in- 
troduction of  other  titles  of  honour.  In  France,  for  exam- 
ple, while  the  king  was  but  a  predominant  feudal  nobh',  he 
was  addressed  by  the  title  sire,  which  was  a  title  borne  by 
feudal  nobles  in  general;  but  towards  the  end  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  when  his  su]'>remac,y  became  settled,  the 
additional'word  "  majesty  "  grew  into  use  as  s])(M-ially  ap- 


TITLES.  .  173 

plicable  to  liim.  Similarly  with  tlie  names  of  secondary 
potentates.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  the  feudal  period,  the 
titles  baron,  marquis,  duke,  and  count,  were  often  con- 
founded: the  reason  being  that  their  attributes  as  feudal 
nobles,  as  guards  of  the  marches,  as  military  leaders,  and 
as  friends  of  the  king,  were  so  far  common  to  them  as  to 
yield  no  clear  grounds  for  distinction.  But  along  with 
(litferentiation  of  functions  went  differentiation  of  these 
titles. 

"The  name  'baron,'"  says  Chdruel,  "appears  to  have  been  the 
generic  term  for  every  kind  of  great  lord,  that  of  duke  for  every  kind 
of  military  chief,  that  of  count  and  marquis  for  every  ruler  of  a  ter- 
ritory. These  titles  are  used  almost  indiscriminately  in  the  romances 
of  chivalry.  When  the  feudal  hierarchy  was  constituted,  the  name 
baron  denoted  a  lord  inferior  in  rank  to  a  count  and  superior  to  a 
simple  knight." 

That  is  to  say,  with  the  progress  of  political  organization 
and  the  establishment  of  rulers  over  rulers,  certain  titles 
became  specialized  for  the  dignifying  of  the  superiors,  in 
addition  to  those  which  they  had  in  connnon  with  the  in- 
feriors. 

As  is  shown  by  the  above  cases,  special  titles,  like  gen- 
eral titles,  are  not  made  but  grow — are  at  first  descriptive. 
Further  to  exemplify  their  descriptive  origin,  and  also  to 
exemj^lifv  the  undifferentiated  use  of  them  in  early  days, 
let  me  enumerate  the  several  styles  by  which,  in  the  Mero- 
vingian period,  the  mayors  of  the  palace  were  known;  viz. 
major  domus  regice,  senior  domus, prlnceps  doiniis,  and  in 
other  instances  prwjiositus^  prcvfectus,  rector,  guhernator, 
moderator,  dux,  ciistos,  siihreguhis.  In  which  list  (noting 
as  we  ]'>ass  how  our  own  title  "  mayor,"  said  to  be  derived 
from  the  French  maire,  is  originally  derived  from  the  Latin 
major,  meaning  either  gTcater  or  elder)  we  get  proof  that 
other  names  of  honour  carry  us  back  to  words  im]dying 
age  as  their  originals;  and  that  in  place  of  such  descriptive 
words,  the  alternative  woixls  iised  describe  functions. 


174  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§  406.  Perliaps  bolter  in  the  case  of  titles  than  in  any 
other  case,  is  illustrated  the  diti'usion  of  ceremonial  forms 
that  are  first  used  to  propitiate  the  most  powerful  only. 

Uncivilized  and  semi-eivilized  peoples,  eivilized  peoples 
of  past  times,  and  existing,  civilized  peoples,  all  furnish 
examples.  Amon<i"  Samoans  "  it  is  usual,  in  the  eourti^sies 
of  common  conversation,  for  all  to  call  each  other  chiefs. 
If  you  listen  to  the  talk  of  little  boys  even,  you  will  hear 
them  addressing  each  other  as  chief  this,  that,  and  the  other 
thing."  In  Siam,  a  man's  children  by  any  of  his  inferior 
wives,  address  their  father  as  "  my  lord,  tlie  king;  "  and  the 
word  Xai,  wliieli  is  the  name  for  chief  among  the  Siamese, 
"  has  become  a  term  of  civility  whieh  the  Siamese  give  to 
one  another."  A  kindred  result  has  occurred  in  China, 
where  sons  si)eak  of  their  father  as  "  family's  majesty," 
'^  prince  of  the  family;"  and  (^liina  su])])lies  a  further 
instance  which  is  notewoi-thy  because  it  is  special.  Here, 
where  the  su])remacv  of  ancient  t(^ach(M-s  became  so  great, 
and  where  the  titles  tze  orfatze,  signifying  "  great  teacher," 
added  to  their  names,  were  subsecpuMitly  addiMJ  to  the  names 
of  distinguished  wi-iters,  and  where  class  distinctions  based 
on  intellectual  eminence  characterize  the  social  organiza- 
tion; it  has  resulted  that  this  name  of  honour  signifying 
teacher,  has  become  an  ordinary  complimentary  title.  An- 
cient Rome  furnishes  other  evidences.  The  spirit  which 
led  to  the  diffusion  of  titles  is  well  shadowed  forth  by 
]\[omnisen  in  describing  the  corrupt  giving  of  public  tri- 
umphs that  were  originally  accorded  only  to  a  "  suju-eme 
magistrate,  who  augmented  the  power  of  tlu^  State  in  open 
battle." 

"In  order  to  put  an  end  to  peaceful  triumphators,  .  .  .  the  <;rant- 
ing  of  a  triumph  was  made  to  depend  on  the  producing  proof  of  a 
pitched  battle  which  had  cost  the  Hvqs  of  at  least  five  thousand  of  the 
enemy;  but  this  proof  was  frequently  evaded  by  false  bulletins.  .  .  . 
Formerly  the  thanks  of  the  community  once  for  all  had  suflicod  for 
service  rendered  to  the  State ;  now  every  meritorious  act  seemed  to 
demand  a  permanent  distinction.  ...  A  custom  came  into  vop^ue,  by 


TITLES.  175 

which  the  victor  and  his  descendants  derived  a  permanent  surname 
from  the  victories  they  had  won.  .  .  .  The  example  set  by  the  higher 
was  followed  by  the  humbler  classes." 

And  under  influences  of  this  kind,  domimis  and  rex  even- 
tually became  titles  used  to  ordinary  persons.  Xor  do  mod- 
ern European  nations  fail  to  exemplify  the  process.  The 
prevalence  of  names  of  rank  on  the  contine-nt,  often  re- 
marked, reaches  in  some  places  great  extremes.  "  In  ^leck- 
lenburg,"  says  Captain  Spencer,  "  it  is  computed  that  the 
nobility  include  one  half  of  the  population.  ...  At  one 
of  the  inns  I  found  a  Herr  Graf  [Count]  for  a  landlord, 
a  Fran  Grafinn  [Countess]  for  a  landlady,  the  young  ller- 
ren  Grafen  filled  the  places  of  ostler,  waiter,  and  boots, 
while  the  fair  young  Friiulein  Grafinnen  were  the  cooks  and 
chambermaids.  I  was  informed  that  in  one  village  .  .  . 
the  whole  of  the  inhabitants  were  noble  except  four." 

French  history  shows  us  more  clearly  perhaps  than  any 
other,  the  stages  of  diffusion.  Noting  that  in  early  days, 
while  madame  was  the  title  for  a  noble  lady, .  rrtadeinoiselle 
was  used  to  the  wife  of  an  advocate  or  physician;  and  that 
when,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  madame  descended  to  the 
married  women  of  these  middle  ranks,  inademoiselle 
descended  from  them  to  the  unmarried  women;  let  us  look 
more  especially  at  the  masculine  titles,  sire^  seigneur,  sieur, 
and  monsieur.  Setting  out  with  sire  as  an  early  title  for  a 
feudal  noble,  we  find,  from  a  remark  of  Montaigne,  that  in 
1580,  though  still  applicable  in  a  higher  sense  to  the  king, 
it  had  descended  to  the  vulgar,  and  was  not  used  for  inter- 
mediate grades.  Seigneur,  introduced  as  a  feudal  title  while 
sire  was  losing  its  meaning  by  diffusion,  and  for  a  period 
used  alternatively  with  it,  became,  in  course  of  time,  con- 
tracted into  sieur.  By  and  by  sietir  also  began  to  spread 
to  those  of  lower  rank.  Afterwards,  re-establishing  a  dis- 
tinction by  an  em])hasizing  prefix,  there  came  into  use  mon- 
sieur; which,  as  a])plied  to  great  seigneurs,  was  new  in 
1321,  and  which  came  also  to  be  the  title  of  sons  of  kings 


170  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

and  dukes.  And  then  by  the  time  that  monsieur  also  had 
become  a  general  title  among  the  upper  classes,  sieur  had 
become  a  bourgeois  title.  Since  which  time,  by  the  same 
process,  the  early  sire  and  the  later  siexir  dying  out,  have 
been  replaced  by  the  universal  monsieiir.  So  that  there 
appear  to  have  been  three  waves  of  diffusion:  sire,  sieur, 
and  monsieur  have  successively  spread  downwards.  Nay, 
even  a  fourth  may  be  traced.  The  duplication  of  the  mon- 
sieur on  a  letter,  doubtless  at  first  used  to  mark  a  distinc- 
tion, has  ceased  to  mark  a  distinction. 

How  by  this  process  high  titles  eventually  descend  to 
the  very  lowest  peopled,  we  are  shown  most  startingly  in 
S])ain;  where  "  even  beggars  address  each  other  as  Sehor  y 
Caballero — Lord  and  Knight." 

§  407.  For  form's  sake,  though  scarcely  otherwise,  it  is 
needful  to  point  out  that  we  are  taught  hero  the  same  lesson 
as  before.  The  title-giving  among  savages  which  follows 
victory  over  a  foe,  brute  or  human,  and  wliidi  litci-any  or 
mctajihorically  distinguishes  the  individual  by  his  achieve- 
ment, unquestionably  originates  in  militancy.  Though  the 
more  general  names  father,  king,  cIjUm-,  and  their  deriva- 
tives, wdiich  afterwards  arise,  are  not  directly  militant  in 
their  implications,  yet  they  are  indirectly  so;  for  they  are 
the  names  of  rulers  evolved  by  militant  activity,  who  habit- 
ually exercise  militant  functions:  being  in  early  stages  al- 
ways the  connnanders  of  their  subjects  in  battle.  Down  to 
our  most  familiar  titles  we  have  this  genesis  implied.  "  Es- 
quire "  and  "  ]\Iister  "  are  derived  the  one  from  the  name  of 
a  knight's  attendant  and  the  other  from  the  name  magi-^ter 
— originally  a  ruler  or  chief,  who  was  a  military  head  by 
origin  and  a  civil  head  by  develoj)ment. 

As  in  other  cases,  conq")arisons  of  societies  of  diilcrent 
types  disclose  this  relation  in  another  way.  Remarking  that 
in  sanguinary  and  despotic  Dahomey,  the  personal  name 
"  can  hanllv  be  said  to  exist;  it  changes  with  every  rank  of 


TITLES.  177 

the  holder,"  Burton  says — "  The  dignities  seem  to  be  in- 
terminable; except  amongst  the  slaves  and  the  canaille, 
*  handles  '  are  the  rule,  not  the  exception,  and  most  of  them 
are  hereditary."  So,  too,  under  Oriental  despotisms.  ''  The 
name  of  every  Burman  disappears  when  he  gets  a  title  of 
rank  or  office,  and  is  heard  no  more;  "  and  in  China,  "  there 
are  twelve  orders  of  nobility,  conferred  solely  on  the  mem- 
bers of  the  imperial  house  or  clan,"  besides  '^  the  five  an- 
cient orders  of  nobility."  Europe  supplies  further  e\d- 
dence.  Travellers  in  both  Kussia  and  Germany,  with  their 
social  organizations  adapted  to  war,  comment  on  the  "  in- 
sane rage  for  titles  of  every  description:  "  the  results  being 
that  in  Kussia  "  a  police-office  clerk  belongs  to  the  eight- 
eenth grade,  and  has  the  right  to  the  title  of  Your  Hon- 
our; "  and  in  Germany  the  names  of  rank  and  names  of 
office  so  abundantly  distributed,  are  habitually  expected  and 
studiously  given,  in  both  speech  and  writing.  Meanwhile 
England,  for  ages  past  less  militant  in  type,  has  ever  shown 
this  trait  in  a  smaller  degree;  and  along  with  the  growth  of 
industrialism  and  accompaying  changes  of  organization, 
the  use  of  titles  in  social  intercourse  has  decreased. 

With  equal  clearness  is  this  connexion  seen  within  each 
society.  By  the  thirteen  grades  in  our  army  and  the  four- 
teen grades  in  our  navy,  we  are  shown  that  the  exclusively- 
militant  structures  continue  to  be  characterized  in  the  high- 
est degree  by  numerous  and  specific  titular  marks.  To  the 
ruling  classes,  descendants  or  representatives  of  those  who 
in  past  times  were  heads  of  military  forces,  the  higher  dis- 
tinctions of  rank  still  mostly  belong;  and  of  remaining 
titles,  the  ecclesiastical  and  legal  are  also  associated  with  the 
regulative  organization  developed  by^  militancy.  Mean- 
while, the  producing  and  exchanging  parts  of  the  society, 
carrying  on  industrial  activities,  only  in  exceptional  cases 
bear  any  titles  beyond  those  which,  descending  and  spread- 
ing, have  almost  lost  their  meanings. 

It  is  indisputable,  then,  that  serving  first  to  commemo- 


178  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

rate  tlie  triumphs  of  savages  over  their  foes,  titles  have  ex- 
panded, multiplied,  and  differentiated,  as  conquests  have 
formed  large  societies  bv  consolidation  and  re-consolidatiou 
of  small  ones;  and  that,  belonging  to  the  social  type  gener- 
ated by  habitual  war,  they  tend  to  lose  their  uses  and  their 
values,  in  proportion  as  this  type  is  replaced  by  one  fitted 
for  carrying  on  the  pursuits  of  peace. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


BADGES    AKD    COSTUMES. 


§  408.  The  pursuit  of  interpretations  once  more  takes 
us  back  to  victories  achieved  over  men  or  animals. 
Badges  are  derived  from  trophies;  mth  which,  in  early 
stages,  tliev  are  identical.  AVe  have  seen  that  by  the  Sho- 
shones,  a  warrior  is  allowed  to  wear  the  feet  and  claws  of  a 
grizzly  bear,  constituting  their  ''  highest  insignia  of  glory," 
only  when  he  has  killed  one:  the  trophy  being  thus  made 
into  a  recognized  mark  of  honour.  And  seeing  this,  we  can- 
not doubt  that  the  buffalo-horns  decorating  the  head  of  a 
Mandan  chief  and  indicating  his  dignity,  were  at  first  worn 
as  spoils  of  the  chase  in  which  he  prided  himself:  implying 
a  genesis  of  a  badge  out  of  a  trophy,  which  gives  meaning  to 
the  head-dresses  of  certain  divine  and  human  personages 
among  ancient  peoples. 

Beginning  as  a  personal  distinction  naturally  resulting 
from  personal  prowess,  like  the  lion's  skin  which  Hercules 
wears,  the  trophy-badge  borne  by  a  warrior  whose  supe- 
riority gains  for  him  supremacy,  tends  to  originate  a  fam- 
ily-badge; which  becomes  a  badge  of  office  if  his  descend- 
ants retain  power.  Hence  the  naturalness  of  the  facts  that 
in  Ukimi  "  the  skin  [of  a  lion]  ...  is  prepared  for  the 
sultan's  wear,  as  no  one  else  dare  use  it;  "  that  ''  a  leopard- 
skin  mantle  is  the  insignia  of  rank  among  the  Zoolus;  "  and 
that  in  Uganda,  certain  of  the  king's  attendants  wear  "  leop- 
ard-cat skins  girt  round  the  waist,  the  sign  of  roval  blood." 

179 


180  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS.. 

Of  course  if  skins  or  otlun-  p;irts  of  slain  boasts,  tend 
tlms  to  become  ba(l<>es,  so,  too,  do  parts  of  slain  men.  "  The 
C'liicliiniecs  tlea  their  heads  [of  their  van(piished  enemies] 
and  fit  that  skin  upon  their  own  heads  wit  h  all  the  hair,  and 
so  wear  it  as  a  token  of  valour,  till  it  rots  off  in  bits."  Here 
the  scalp  which  proves  his  victory,  is  itself  used  in  stamp- 
ing the  warrior  as  honourable.  Similarly  when,  of  the  Yu- 
catanese,  Landa  says  that  "  after  a  victory  they  tore  from 
the  slain  enemy  the  jaw-bone,  and  having  stripped  it  of 
flesh,  they  put  it  on  their  arm,"  we  may  recognize  the  be- 
ginning of  another  kind  of  badge  from  another  kind  of 
trophy.  Though  clear  evidence  that  jawbones  become 
badges,  is  not  forthcoming,  we  have  good  reason  to  think 
that  substituted  representations  of  them  do.  After  our  war 
with  Ashantee,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  jawbones  are  ha- 
bitually taken  as  trophies,  there  were  brought  over  to  Eng- 
land among  other  curiosities,  small  models  of  jawbones 
made  in  gold,  used  for  personal  adorinnent.  And  facts 
presently  to  be  cited  suggest  that  they  became  ornaments 
after  having  originally  been  badges  worn  by  those  who  had 
actually  taken  jawbones  from  enemies. 

§  409.  Besides  sometimes  losing  parts  of  their  bodies, 
wdiich  thereupon  become  trophies,  con(piere<l  men  inva- 
riably loge  their  wca])()ns,  which  naturally  also  become 
trophies;  as  tlu\y  did  among  tire  (i reeks,  and  as  they 
did  again  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  to  whom  swords 
of  subdued  chiefs  were  brought.  And  if,  as  we  see,  i)arts 
of  van(|iiislic(l  foes'  bodies,  brute  or  huiiiaii,  when  worn  Ix;- 
come  badges;  we  may  expect  that  the  weapons  of  the  van- 
(piished  when  carried  by  the  victors,  will  also  become 
badges. 

That  swords  are  thus  transformed  from  tro])hi('s  into 
badges,  if  not  directly  proved  is  indirectly  iiii])licd.  In 
Japan  "the  constant  criterion  |  of  i-ank  |  I  urns  upon  the 
wearing  of  swords.      The  higher  orders  wear  two  .   .   .   the 


BADGES  AND  COSTUMES.  "  181 

next  in  rank  wear  one.  .  •.  .  To  the  lower  orders,  a  sword  is 
strictly  prohibited."  And  since  a  practice  so  inconvenient 
as  that  of  carrying  a  superflnous  sword,  is  not  likely  to  have 
been  adopted  gratuitously;  it  may  be  inferred  that  the 
"  two-sworded  man,"  as  he  is  called,  was  originally  one  who, 
in  addition  to  his  own  sword,  wore  a  sword  taken  from  an 
enemy:  in  which  case  what  is  now  a  badge  was  once  a  tro- 
phy. Even  where  both  swords  are  not  worn,  it  results 
that  as  the  vanquished  man  is  made  swordless,  the  victor's 
sword  marks  him  as  master  in  contrast  with  the  swordless 
as  slave.  Hence,  then,  the  fact  that  in  various  countries  a 
sword  is  a  symbol  of  power.  Hence  the  fact  that  of  old  the 
investiture  of  princes  was  in  many  cases  by  the  girding  on  of 
a  sword.  Hence  the  use  of  a  sword  as  an  emblem  of  judicial 
authority.  Implying  power  and  position,  the  sword 

is  a  mark  of  honour  which,  in  common  with  all  others,  has 
tended  to  spread  downwards;  as  till  lately  in  Japan,  where 
swordless  men  in  underhand  ways  acquired  the  privilege  of 
wearing  swords;  and  as  in  France,  where,  two  centuries 
ago,  punishments  for  the  unauthorized  wearing  of  swords 
were  inflicted. 

Better  than  the  sword  does  the  spear  illustrate  this  gene- 
sis of  the  badge  from  the  trophy;  since,  while  the  sword  in 
becoming  a  badge  retains  its  original  shape,  the  spear  in 
becoming  a  badge  partially  loses  the  aspect  of  a  weapon. 
In  its  untransformed  state,  the  spear  is  used  to  signify  au- 
thority by  various  semi-civilized  peoples.  Among  several 
parties  met  by  Mr.  Ellis  when  travelling  in  Madagascar,  he 
noticed  that  ''  the  chief  usually  carried  a  spear  or  staff,  or 
both."  "  'No  person  is  permitted  to  carry  weapons  of  any 
sort  in  the  palace,"  of  Uganda,  says  Spekc;  "  but  the  king 
liabitually  bears  a  couple  of  spears  "  :  a  duplication  of 
weapons  again  suggestive,  like  the  two  swords,  of  a  trophy. 
In  Japan,  nobles  "  are  entitled  in  virtue  of  their  rank  to 
have  a  spear  carried  before  them  when  moving  about  ofli-^ 
cially."  That  the  javelin  was  a  symbol  of  authority  among 
70 


1S2  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tlie  Hebrews,  EwaUl  infers  from  1  Samuel,  xviii.,  10  and 
xxvi.,  12  and  22.  And  then  there  is  the  still  more  signili- 
eant  fact  that  a  lance  or  spear,  in  the  time  of  Pausanias, 
was  worshipped  as  the  sceptre  of  Zens.  Early  Eurui)ean 
history  yields  further  evidence.  "  The  lance  was  a  sign  of 
kingly  power"  among  the  Franks,  says  Waitz;  and  when 
Guntchram  adopted  CUiildebert,  his  nephew,  he  placed  a 
spear  in  his  hand,  saying,  '^  this  is  a  sign  that  I  have  given 
over  my  whole  kingdom  to  thee."  Add  the  evidence  fur- 
nished by  the  shape  of  its  terminal  ornament,  and  we  cannot 
doubt  that  the  sceptre  is  simply  a  modified  spear — a  spear 
which,  ceasing  to  be  used  as  a  weapon,  lost  its  fitness  for  de- 
structive purposes  while  becoming  enriched  with  gold  aud 
precious  stones.  That  only  by  degrees  did  its  character  as  a 
weapon  disappear,  is  implied  by  the  fact  that  the  prelate  who 
consecrated  Otho  in  1).'57,  said — "  By  this  sceptre  you  shall 
paternally  chastise  your  subjects."  And  then  we  may  infer 
that  while  the  spear,  borne  by  the  supreme  ruler,  underwent 
transformation  into  the  sceptre,  the  spears  borne  by  sub- 
ordinates, symbolizing  their  dei)iit('d  authority,  gradually 
changed  into  staves  of  office,  batons  of  ('(Hiiiiiaiul,  and 
wands. 

Other  facts  from  various  (piarters,  sup])ort  the  conchi- 
sion  that  all  such  marks  of  official  ])ower  are  derived  from 
the  weapons  or  appendages  carried  by  the  militant  man. 
Among  the  Araucanians  "  the  discriminative  hadge  of  the 
toqui  [supreme  chief]  is  a  sjiecies  of  battle-axe,  nuide  of 
porphyry  or  marble."  Describing  a  governor-general  of  a 
Uganda  province,  Speke  says: — "  His  badge  of  office  is  an 
iron  hatchet,  inlaid  with  copper  and  handled  with  ivory." 
And  then  media3val  France  supplies  two  instances  in  which 
other  ])arts  of  the  warrior's  belongings  became  badges. 
Plate  armour,  origimdly  woi-n  by  flic  knight  as  a  defence, 
was  clung  to  by  the  nobility  after  it  had  ceasi'd  to  be  useful, 
because  it  was  a  mark  of  distinction,  says  Quicherat;  and 
sjiurs,  also  at  first  knightly  ai)])eii(Iages,  grew  into  apix'iid- 


BADGES  AND  COSTUMES.  183 

ages  of  honour,  and  spread  tlirougli  bishops  down  even  to 
the  ordinary  clergy. 

§  410.  Another  symbol  of  authority,  the  flag  or  ensign, 
seems  to  have  had  a  kindred  origin.  This,  too,  is  a  modified 
and  developed  spear. 

Certain  usages  of  the  Peruvians  yield  evidence.  Gar- 
cilasso  says,  "•  the  lance  was  adorned  with  feathers  of  many 
colours;  extending  from  the  point  to  the  socket,  and  fas- 
tened with  rings  of  gold.  The  same  ensign  served  as  a  ban- 
ner in  time  of  war."  This  suggests  that  the  appendages  of 
the  lance,  first  used  for  display,  incidentally  furnished  a 
means  of  identification,  whereby  the  whereabouts  of  the 
leader  could  be  traced.  And  then  Mr.  Markham's  statement 
that  planting  a  lance  with  a  banner  at  the  end  seems  to  have 
been  a  sign  of  tlie  royal  presence,  while  it  verifies  the  in- 
ference that  the  lance  became  by  association  a  mark  of  gov- 
ernmental power,  suggests  also  how",  by  develdpnient  of  its 
decorative  part,  the  banner  resulted. 

That  along  with  consolidation  of  small  societies  into 
larger  ones  by  conquest,  followed  by  development  of  mili- 
tant organization,  there  arises  not  only  the  need  for  dis- 
tinguishing each  chief  of  a  tribe  from  his  followcn's,  but 
also  for  distinguishing  the  tribes  from  one  another,  is  shown 
by  sundry  slightly  civilized  and  semi-civilized  peoples. 
During  wars  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  different  ranks  of 
cliiefs  were  distinguished  by  the  sizes  and  colours  of  their 
feather  cloaks.  Among  the  Fijians  each  band  "'  fights 
under  its  own  flag,"  and  "  the  flags  are  distinguished  from 
each  other  by  nuirkings."  When  armies  were  formed  by 
the  C^hibchas,  "  each  cazique  and  tribe  came  with  different 
signs  on  their  tents,  fitted  out  with  the  mantles  by  which 
.  they  distinguished  themselves  from  each  other."  And  "  the 
j\lexicans  were  very  attentive  to  distingnisli  ])ersons,  par- 
ticularly in  war,  by  different  badges."  When  with  this  last 
statement  we  join  the  further  statcnnent  that  "  the  arm()rial 


184:  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

ensign  of  the  Mexican  empire  was  an  eagle  in  the  act  of 
darting  upon  a  tiger,"  recalling  the  aninial-nanies  of  the 
kings,  we  are  shown  how,  at  any  rate  in  some  castas,  the 
distinctive  marks  on  the  flags  of  leaders  represented  their 
names;  carrying  ns  hack  to  those  achievements  in  war  and 
the  chase  which  originated  their  names. 

That  the  devices  on  flags  were  in  early  stages  commonly 
of  this  kind  (though  naturally  not  in  cases  like  those  of 
Sandwich  Islanchn-s  and  Fijians  above  named,  whose  habi- 
tats contained  no  wild  beasts  of  fit  characters)  seems  im- 
plied by  the  fact  that  even  still,  the  predatory  mannnals  and 
birds  of  prey  which,  in  early  times,  mostly  furnished  the 
animal  names  of  great  warriors,  still  linger  on  flags,  or  on 
the  standards  carrying  them:  the  reason  for  the  gradual 
subordination  of  the  animal-figure  being  obviously  the 
gTOwth  of  that  ex])ause  of  colour  which  gives  tlie  needful 
cons])icuousuess. 

§411.  And  here  we  come  upon  the  now-familiar  in- 
ference that  heraldic  badges  have  descended  from  these 
primitive  tribal  l)adges,  or  totems.  ^  That  the  names  of 
tribes,  in  so  many  parts  of  the  world  dei-ived  fi'om  animals, 
and  often  joined  with  beliefs  that  the  animals  giving  the 
names  were  the  actual  ancestors,  sometimes  originate  tribal 
badges,  we  have  direct  proof.  Of  the  Thlinkeets  we  read 
in  Bancroft  that — 

"The  whole  nation  is  separated  into  two  great  divisions  or  clans, 
one  of  which  is  called  the  Wolf,  and  the  other  the  Raven.  Upon 
tlieir  houses,  boats,  robes,  sliields,  and  wherever  else  they  can  find 
a  place  for  it,  they  jiaint  or  carve  their  crest,  an  heraldic  device  of 
the  beast  or  the  bird  designating  tlic  clan  to  which  the  owner  be- 
longs." 

With  such  suj)i)ort  for  an  inference  reasonably  to  be 
drawn,  we  cannot  but  ac(H'pt  the  hypothesis  that  t\\o  hei-al- 
dic  devices  which  early  ])revailed  among  the  civilized,  liad 
a  like  genesis.     When  we  read  that  in  China,  "  the  !Man- 


BADGES  AND  COSTUMES.  185 

darins  of  letters  have  birds  on  their  Habit  embroidered  in 
Gold,  to  distinguish  their  rank;  the  Mandarins  of  the 
Army  have  Animals,  as  the  Dragon,  the  Lion,  the  Tiger," 
and  that  "  by  these  Marks  of  Honour  the  People  know 
the  Rank  these  officers  have  in  the  nine  Degrees  of  the 
State;  "  we  can  scarcely  draw  any  other  conclusion  than 
that  this  use  of  animal-symbols,  however  much  it  has  de- 
viated from  its  original  use,  arose  from  the  primitive 
system  of  tribal  naming  and  consequent  tribal  badges. 
And  finding  that  during  early  times  in  Europe,  coats  of 
arms  were  similarly  emblazoned  upoii  the  dresses,  as  well 
as  otherwise  displayed,  we  must  infer  that  whether  painted 
on  coach-panels,  chased  on  plate,  or  cut  on  seals,"  these 
famih'-marks  among  ourselves  have  a  kindred  deriva- 
tion. 

§  412.  Civilized  usages  obscure  the  truth  that  men 
were  not  originally  prom]ited  to  clothe  themselves  by  either 
the  desire  for  warmth  or  the  thought  of  decency.  When 
Speke  tells  us  that  the  Africans  attending  him,  donning 
with  pride  their  goat-skin  mantles  when  it  was  fine,  took 
them  off  when  it  rained,  and  went  about  naked  and  shiver- 
ing; or  when  we  read  in  Heuglin  that  "  among  the  Schiluk 
the  men  go  quite  naked,  even  their  sultan  and  his  wezir  ap- 
pear in  a  kind  of  parti-colonred  shirt,  only  during  official  in- 
terviews and  on  festive  occasions;  "  we  are  shown  that  the 
dress,  like  the  badge,  is  at  first  worn  from  the  wish  for  ad- 
miration. 

Some  of  the  facts  already  given  concerning  American 
Indians,  who  wear  as  marks  of  honour  the  skins  of  formi- 
dable animals  tlicy  have  killed,  suggest  that  the  badge  and 
the  dress  have  a  connnon  root,  and  that  the  dress  is,  at  any 
rate  in  some  cases,  a  collateral  development  of  the  badge. 
There  is  evidence  that  it  was  so  with  early  European  races. 
Tn  their  Life  of  the  Greeks  and  Honians,  Guhl  and  Koner 
remark : — 


186  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

"  The  covering  of  the  lie;ul  and  the  upper  j)art  of  the  body,  to 
protect  them  from  the  weatlier  and  tlie  enemy's  \vea])ons,  originally 
consisted  of  the  hide  of  wild  animals.  Thus  the  hunter's  trophy 
became  the  warrior's  armour.  .  .  .  The  same  custom  prevailed 
amongst  Germanic  nations,  and  seems  to  have  been  adopted  by  the 
Roman  standard-bearers  and  trumjjeters,  as  is  proved  by  the  monu- 
ments of  the  imperial  period.'' 

AV hence  it  is  inferable  that  the  honoiirableness  of  the  bad^c 
and  of  the  dress,  simultaneously  arise  from  the  honourable- 
ncss  of  the  trophy.  That  ])ossession  of  a  skin-dress  passes 
into  a  elass-distinetion,  1  iind  no  direct  proof;  thong'h,  as 
the  skins  of  formidable  beasts  often  become  distinctive 
of  chiefs,  it  seems  probable  that  skins  in  general  become' 
distinctive  of  a  dominant  class  where  a  servile  class 
exists.  Indeed,  in  a  i)rindtive  society  there  unavoidably 
arises  this  contrast  between  those  who,  engaged  in  the 
chase  when  not  engaged  in  war,  can  obtain  skin-garments, 
and  those  who,  as  slaves,  are  debarred  from  doing  so 
by  their  occupation.  Hence,  possibly,  the  interdicts  in 
mediajval  Europe  against  the  wearing  of  furs  by  the  inferior 
classes. 

Even  apart  from  this  it  is  inferable  that  sinee,  by  taking 
his  clothes,' nakedness  is  counnonly  made  a  trait  of  the  pris- 
oner, and  consequently  of  the  slave,  ndntive  amount  of 
clothing  becomes  a  class-distinction.  In  some  cases  there 
result  exaggerations  of  the  diiference  thus  incidentally  aris- 
ing. AVhere  the  inferior  are  clothed,  the  superior  distin- 
guish themselves  by  being  more  clothed.  Cook  says  of  the 
Sandwich  Islanders  that  quantity  of  clothing  is  a  mark  of 
position,  and  of  the  Tongans  he  says  the  same;  while  he  tells 
us  that  in  I'ahiti,  the  higher  classes  signify  their  rank  by 
wearing  a  large  amount  of  clothing  at  great  inconvenience 
to  themselves.  A  kindred  case  occurs  in  Africa.  Accord- 
ing to  Laird,  "  on  all  great  occasions  it  is  customary  for  the 
king  "  of  Fundah  "  and  his  attendants  to  puff  themselves 
out  to  a  ridiculous  size  with  cotton  wadding."  And  the 
Arabs  furnish  an  allied  fact.    In  Kasecm  ''  it  is  the  fashion 


BADGES  AND   COSTUMES.  187 

to  multiply  this  important  article  of  raiment  [shirts]  by 
putting  on  a  second  over  the  first  and  a  third  over  the  sec- 
ond." 

That  there  simultaneously  arise  differences  in  the  forms 
and  in  qualities  of  the  dresses  worn  by  rulers  and  ruled, 
scarcely  needs  saying.  Obviously,  the  partial  dress  of  the 
slave  must  become  distinguished  by  sliape  as  well  as  by 
amount,  from  the  complete  dress  of  the  master;  and  ob- 
viously, the  clothing  allowed  to  him  as  a  slave  will  be 
relatively  coarse.  But  beyond  the  distinctions  thus  marking 
rank  in  early  stages,  there  must  in  later  stages  habitually 
arise  further  such  distinctions.  As  wars  between  small 
societies  end  from  time  to  time  in  subjugation,  it  must  hap- 
pen that  when  the  dress  of  the  ruling  class  of  the  con- 
quering society  differs  from  that  of  the  ruling  class  of  the 
society  conquered,  it  will  become  distinctive  of  the  new  and 
higher  ruling  class.  There  is  evidence  that  contrasts  were 
thus  initiated  during  the  spread  of  the  Romans.  Those 
inhabitants  of  Gaul  who  were  inscribed  Roman  citizens, 
Avore  the  Roman  costume,  and  formed  a  privileged  order. 
"  The  Gallo-Romans,  who  were-  incomparably  the  more 
numerous  .  .  .  were  obliged  to  dress  otherwise :  "  freemen 
meanwhile  being  distinguished  from  slaves,  and  slaves  from 
colonic  by  their  mantles. 

Distinctions  of  rank  naturally  come  to  be  marked  by  the 
colours  of  dresses,  as  well  as  by  their  quantities,  qualities, 
and  sliapes.  The  coarse  fabrics  worn  by  the  servile  classes, 
must  as  a  matter  of  course  be  characterized  by  those  dull 
colours  possessed  by  the  raw  materials  used;  as  happened 
in  Rome,  where  "  only  poor  people,  slaves  and  freednien, 
wore  dresses  of  the  natural  hrown  or  black  colour  of  the 
wool."  Consequently,  bright  colours  will  habitually  distin- 
guish the  dresses  of  the  ruling  classes,  able  to  spend  money 
on  costly  dyes.  Illustrations  come  from  many  countries. 
In  ]\radagascar  the  use  of  a  "  dress  of  entire  scarlet  is  the 
prerogative  of  the  sovereign  alone."    In  Siam  "  the  Prince, 


188  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

and  nil  wlio  fallow  liim  in  war  or  llie  clinso,  arc  clotliocl  in 
red."  "  The  Kututucditn  [Mongol  pontiff]  and  his  lamas 
are  all  clothed  in  yellow,  and  no  layman  is  allowed  to  wear 
this  colour  except  the  prince."  In  China  also,  yellow  is  the 
imperial  colonr,  limited  to  the  emperor  and  his  clan;  and 
among  the  Chinese  other  colours,  crimson,  green,  &c., 
mark  j)otentates  of  divers  grades,  while  sashes  and  caps  of 
various  bright  hues  are  marks  of  rank.  Then  in  Europe  we 
have,  during  the  last  years  of  the  Roman  republic,  the  wear- 
ing of  scarlet,  i^iolet,  and  purple,  by  men  of  the  wealth- 
ier classes;  ending  in  the  purple  of  special  quality  distinc- 
tive of  the  emperor,  when  his  supremacy  became  established 
And  among  later  peoples  like  causes  have  effected  like  dis- 
tinctions. In  mediaeval  France  scarlet,  as  the  most  costly 
colour,  was  worn  exclusively  by  princes,  knights,  and  women 
of  high  rank.  "  '  The  laws  ordain  that  no  one  shall  wear 
purple,  which  signifies  exalted  raid<,  except  the  nobles.' 
Froissart,  sj'icaking  of  Artevelle,  chief  of  the  revolted  Gan- 
tese,  says  that  '  he  was  clothx^d  in  sanguine  robes  and  in 
scarlet,  like  the  Duke  of  Brabant  and  the  Count  of  Ilai- 
naut.'  " 

Of  course  with  that  development  of  ceremonial  control 
which  goes  along  with  elaboration  of  political  structure, 
differences  .of  (|uantity,  quality,  shape  and  colour,  are  united 
to  produce  dresses  distinctive  of  classes.  1'his  trait  is  most 
marked  where  the  rule  is  most  despotic;  as  in  China  where 
"  between  the  highest  mandarin  or  prime  minister,  and  the 
lowest  constable,  there  are  nine  classes,  each  distinguished 
by  a  dress  peculiar  to  itself;  "  as  in  Japan,  where  the  at- 
tendants of  the  ]\Iikado  "  are  (dad  after  a  ])articular  fashion 
.  .  .  and  there  is  so  much  difference  even  among  them- 
selves, as  to  their  habits,  that  thereby  alone  it  is  easily 
kno^^^l  what  rank  they  are  of,  or  what  employment  they 
have  at  Court;  "  and  as  in  European  countries  during 
times  of  unchecked  personal  govcrnmeut,  when  each  class 
had  its  distinctive  costume. 


BADGES  AND  COSTUMES.  ISO 

§  413.  The  causes  wliicli  have  originated,  developed, 
and  specialized  badges  and  dresses,  have  done  the  like  with 
ornaments;  which  have,  indeed,  the  same  origins. 

How  trophy-badges  pass  into  ornaments,  we  shall  see  on 
joining  with  facts  given  at  the  outset  of  the  chapter,  certain 
kindred  facts.  In  Guatemala,  when  commemorating  by 
war-dances  the  victories  of  earlier  times,  the  Indians  were 
"  dressed  in  the  skins  and  wearing  the  heads  of  animals  on 
their  own;  "  and  among  the  Chibchas,  persons  of  rank 
"  wore  helmets,  generally  made  of  the  skins  of  fierce  ani- 
mals." If  we  recall  the  statement  already  quoted,  that  in 
priiflitive  European  times,  the  warrior's  head  and  shoulders 
were  protected  by  the  hide  of  a  wild  animal  (the  skin  of  its 
head  sometimes  surmounting  his  head) ;  and  if  we  add  the 
statement  of  Plutarch  that  the  Cimbri  wore  helmets  repre- 
senting the  heads  of  wild  beasts;  we  may  infer  that  the  ani- 
mal-ornaments on  metal-helmets  began  as  imitations  of 
hunter's  trophies.  This  inference  is  supported  by  evidence 
already  cited  in  part,  but  in  part  reserved  for  the  present  oc- 
casion. The  Ashantees  who,  as  we  have  seen,  take  human 
jaws  as  trophies,  use  both  actual  jaws  and  golden  models  of 
jaws  for  different  decorative  purposes:  adorning  their  musi- 
cal instruments,  &c.,  M'ith  the  realities,  and  carrying  on 
their  persons  the  metallic  representations.  A  parallel  deri- 
vation occurs  among  the  Malagasy.  When  we  read  that  by 
them  silver  ornaments  like  crocodile's  teeth  are  worn  ofi 
various  parts  of  the  body,  we  can  scarcely  doubt  that  tlie 
silver  teeth  are  substitutes  for  actual  teeth  original Jy  worn 
as  trophies. 

We  shall  the  less  doubt  this  derivation  on  observing  in 
how  many  parts  of  the  world  personal  ornaments  are  made 
out  of  these  small  and  durable  parts  of  conquered  men  and 
animals, — how  by  Caribs,  Tupis,  Moxos,  Ashantees,  human 
teeth  arc  made  into  armk^ts,  anklets,  and  necklaces;  and 
how  in  other  cases  the  teeth  of  beasts,  mostly  formidable, 
are  used  in  like  wavs.     The  necklaces  of  the  Land  Dvaks 


190  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

contain  tig'er-cat's  tectli;  tlio  Xcw  (ininea  pooplo  oriianiont 
tlicir  necks,  arms,  and  waists  with  hogs'  tcoth;  whik'  tho 
Sandwich  Islanders  have  bracelets  of  the  polished  tnsks  of 
the  hog,  with  anklets  of  dogs'  teeth.  Some  Dacotahs  wear 
"  a  kind  of  necklace  of  white  bear's  claws,  three  inches 
long."  Among  the  Kiikis  "  a  common  armlet  worn  by  the 
men  consists  of  two  semi-circular  boar's  tnsks  tied  together 
so  as  to  form  a  ring."  Enumerating  objects  hanging  from 
a  Dyali's  ear,  Bojle  includes  *'  two  boar's  tusks,  one  alli- 
gator's tooth."  And  picturing  what  her  life  would  be  at 
home,  a  captive  ISTew  Zealand  girl  in  her  lament  says — "  the 
shark's  tooth  would  hang  from  my  ear."  Though  snuiU 
objects  A\4iich  are  attractive  in  colour  and  shape,  will  natu- 
rally be  used  by  the  savage  for  decorative  purposes,  yet  pride 
in  displaying  proofs  of  his  prowess,  will  inevitably  make 
him  utilize  fit  trophies  in  preference  to  other  things,  when 
he  has  them.  The  motive  which  made  Mandans  have  their 
buffalo-robes  "  fringed  on  one  side  with  scalp-locks,"  which 
prompts  a  Xaga  chief  to  adorn  the  collar  round  Ids  neck 
with  "  tufts  of  the  hair  of  the  persons  he  had  killed,"  and 
which  leads  the  Hottentots  to  ornament  their  heads  with 
the  bladders  of  the  wild  beasts  they  have  slain,  as  Kolbeu 
tells  us,  will  iu('vit;i])ly  tend  to  tninsfoi'iu  trophies  into 
decorations  wherever  it  is  possible.  ludeod  while  T  write 
I  find  direct  proof  that  this  is  so.  CV)nccrning  the  Snake 
Indians,  Lewis  and  Clarke  say : — 

"The  collar  most  preferred,  because  most  honourable,  is  one  of 
the  claws  of  the  brown  bear.  To  kill  one  of  these  animals  is  as  dis- 
tinguished  an  achievement  as  to  have  put  to  death  an  enemy,  and  in 
fact  with  their  weapons  is  a  more  dangerous  trial  of  courage.  These 
claws  are  suspended  on  a  thong  of  dressed  leather,  and  being  orna- 
mented with  beads,  are  worn  round  the  neck  by  the  warriors  with 
great  pride." 

And  sundry  facts  unite  in  suggesting  that  many  of  the 
things  used  for  ornaments  were  at  first  substitutes  for  tro- 
phies having  some  resemblance  to  them.     When  Tuckey 


BADGES  and/ COSTUMES.  191 

tells  us  that  tlie  natives  of  the  Congo  region  make  their 
necklaces,  bracelets,  &c.,  of  iron  and  brass  rings,  lion's 
teeth,  beads,  shells,  seeds  of  plants;  we  may  suspect  that 
the  lion's  teeth  stand  to  the  beads  and  shells  in  much  the 
same  relation  that  diamonds  do  to  paste. 

And  then  from  cases  in  which  the  ornament  is  an  actual 
trophy  or  representation  of  a  trophy,  we  pass  to  cases  in 
which  it  avowedly  stands  in  place  of  a  trophy.  Describing 
practices  of  the  Chibchas,  Acosta  says  that  certain  of  their 
strongest  and  1)ravest  men  had  "  their  lips,  noses,  and' ears 
pierced,  and  from  them  hung  strings  of  gold  quills,  the 
number  of  which  corresponded  with  that  of  the  enemies 
they  had  killed  in  battle:  "  the  probability  being  that  these 
golden  ornaments,  originally  representations  of  actual  tro- 
pliies,  had  lost  resemblance  to  them. 

Thus  originating,  adornments  of  these  kinds  become 
distinctive  of  the  warrior-class;  and  there  result  interdicts 
on  the  use  of  them  by  inferiors.  Such  interdicts  have  oc- 
curred in  various  places.  Among  the  Chibchas,  "  paint- 
ings, decorations  and  jewels  on  dresses,  and  ornaments,  were 
forbidden  to  the  common  people."  So,  too,  in  Peru,  "  none 
of  the  common  people  could  use  gold  or  silver,  except  by 
special  privilege."  And  without  nmltiplying  evidence 
from  nearer  regions,  it  will  suffice  to  add  that  in  mediseval 
France,  jewellery  and  plate  were  marks  of  distinction  not 
allowed  to  those  below  a  certain  rank. 

Of  course  decorations  beginning  as  actual  trophies, 
passing  into  representations  of  trophies  made  of  precious 
materials,  and,  while  losing  their  resemblance  to  trophies, 
coming  to  be  marks  of  honour  given  to  brave  warriors  by 
their  militant  rulers  (as  in  Imperial  Rome,  where  armlets 
were  thus  awarded)  inevitably  pass  from  relative  uniform- 
ity to  relative  multiformity.  As  society  complicates  there 
result  orders  of  many  kinds — stars,  crosses,  medals,  and  the 
like.  These  it  is  observable  are  most  if  not  all  of  them  of 
military  origin.     And  then  where  a  militant  organization 


192  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

evolved  into  rigidity,  oontinnes  after  the  life  lias  ceased  to 
be  militant,  we  lind  sneli  decorations  used  to  mark  ranks  of 
another  kind;  as  in  China,  with  its  differently-coloured 
buttons  distinguishing  its  diiferent  grades  of  mandarins. 

I  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  to  imply  that  this 
explanation  covers  all  cases.  Already  I  have  admitted  that 
the  rudimentary  aesthetic  sense  which  leads  the  savage  to 
paint  his  body,  has  doubtless  a  share  in  prompting  the  use 
of  attractive  objects  for  ornaments;  and  two  other  origins 
of  ornaments  must  be  added.  Cook  tells  us  that  the  New 
Zealanders  carry  suspended  to  their  ears  the  nails  and  teeth 
of  their  deceased  relations;  and  much  more  bulky  relics, 
which  are  carried  about  by  widows  and  others  among  some 
races,  may  also  occasionally  be  modified  into  decorative  ob- 
jects. Further,  it  seems  that  badges  of  slavery  undergo  a 
kindred  transformation.  The  ring  through  the  nose,  which 
Assyrian  sculptures  show  us  was  used  for  leading  captives 
taken  in  war,  which  marked  those  who,  as  priests,  entered 
the  service  of  certain  gods  in  ancient  America,  and  which  in 
Astrachan  is  even  now  a  sign  of  dedication,  that  is  of  sub- 
jection; seems  elsewhere  to  have  lost  its  meaning,  and  to 
have  survived  as  an  ornament.  And  this  is  a  change  analo- 
gous to  that  which  has  occun'ed  with  marks  on  the  skin. 
(§  364) 

§  414.  We  cannot  say  that  the  wish  to  ])ropitiate,  which 
caused  the  spread  of  present-giving,  of  obeisances,  of  com- 
j)limentary  addresses,  and  of  titles,  has  also  caused  the 
spread  of  badges,  costimies,  and  decorations.  In  this  case  it 
is  rather  that  the  lower  grades  have  sought  to  raise  them- 
selves into  the  grades  above,  by  assuming  their  distinctive 
marks;  and  tluit,  where  feared,  they  have  been  propitiated 
by  allowing  them  to  do  this. 

Already  in  passing  we  have  noted  how  such  badges  of 
rank  as  swords  and  as  spurs,  have  descended  even  in  spite 
of  interdicts;  and  here  must  be  added  proofs  tluit  the  like 


BADGES  AND   COSTUMES.  193 

has  occurred  with  dresses  and  ornaments.  It  was  thus  in 
Rome.  "  All  these  insignia,"  writes  Mommsen,  "  proba- 
bly belonged  at  first  only  to  the  nobility  proper,  -i.  e.  to  the 
agnate  descendants  of  curule  magistrates;  although,  after 
the  manner  of  such  decorations,  all  of  them  in  course  of  time 
were  extended  to  a  wider  circle."  A];id  then,  in  illustration, 
he  says  that  the  purple-bordered  toga,  originally  significant 
of  the  highest  rank,  had,  as  early  as  the  time  of  the  second 
Punic  war,  descended  "even  to  the  sons  of  freedmen;  " 
while  the  gold  amulet-case  distinguishing  the  triumphator, 
was,  at  the  same  date,  "  only  mentioned  as  a  badge  of  the 
children  of  senators."    So  was  it,  too,  with  signet  rings. 

"Originally  only  ambassadors  sent  to  foreign  nations  were  allowed 
to  wear  gold  rings  .  .  .  ;  later,  senators  and  other  magistrates  of 
equal  rank,  and  soon  afterwards  knights,  received  the  jus  annuli 
awrei.  After  the  civil  war,  .  .  .  the  privilege  was  frequently  en- 
croached upon.  The  first  emperors  tried  to  enforce  the  old  law,  but 
as  many  of  their  freedmen  had  become  entitled  to  wear  gold  rings, 
the  distinction  lost  its  value.  After  Hadrian  the  gold  ring  ceased  to 
be  the  sign  of  rank." 

SiTuiptuary  laws  in  later  times,  have  shown  us  alike  the 
distinctions  of  dress  which  once  marked  off  classes  and  the 
gradual  breaking  down  of  those  distinctions;  as,  for  exam- 
ple, in  medigeval  France.  Just  alluding  to  the  facts  that  in 
early  days  silk  and  velvet  were  prohibited  to  those  below  a 
certain  grade,  that  under  Philip  Augustus  shoe-points  were 
limited  in  their  lengths  to  six  inches,  twelve  inches,  or 
twenty-four  inches  according  to  social  position,  and  that  in 
the  17th  century,  ranks  at  the  French  court  were  marked  by 
the  lengths  of  trains;  it  will  suffice,  in  illustration  of  the 
feelings  and  actions  which  cause  and  resist  such  changes,  to 
name  the  complaints  of  moralists  in  the  14th  and  15th  cen- 
turies, that  by  extravagance  in  dress  "  all  ranks  were  con- 
founded," and  to  add  that  in  the  IGth  century,  women  were 
sent  to  prison  by  scores  for  wearing  clothes  like  those  of 
their  superiors. 

How  this  diffusion  of  dresses  marking  honourable  posi- 


194  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tion  and  disuse  of  dresses  markiiii;*  inferiority,  lias  gone  far 
among  ourselves,  but  is  stiU  incomplete,  is  shown  in  almost 
every  household.  On  the  one  hand  we  have  the  fashionable 
gowns  of  cooks  and  housemaids ;  on  the  other  hand  we  have 
that  dwarfed  representative  of  the  muslin  cap,  which,  once 
hiding  the  hair,  was  insisted  upon  by  mistresses  as  a  class 
distinction,  but  which,  gradually  dwindling,  has  now  be- 
come a  small  patch  on  the  back  of  the  head :  a  good  instance 
of  the  unoV)trusive  modifications  by  which  usages  are 
changed. 

§  415.  Before  summing  up,  I  must  point  out  that 
though,  m  respect  of  these  elements  of  ceremony,  there  are 
not  numerous  parallelisms  between  the  celestial  rule  and  the 
terrestrial  rule,  still  there  are  some.  That  the  symbol  of 
dominion,  the  sceptre,  originally  derived  from  a  weapon, 
the  spear,  is  common  to  the  two,  will  be  at  once  recalled  as 
one  instance;  and  the  ball  held  in  the  hand  as  a  second. 
Further,  in  regions  so  far  from  one  another  as  Polynesia 
and  ancient  Italy,  we  find  such  communities  of  dress  be- 
tween the  divine  and  the  human  potentate,  as  naturally 
follow  .the  genesis  of  deities  by  ancestor-worship.  Ellis 
tells  us  that  the  Tahitians  had  a  great  religious  festival  at 
the  coronation  of  their  kings.  During  the  ceremonies,  he 
was  girded  with  the  sacred  girdle  of  red  feathers,  which 
identified  liiiii  witli  tlic  gods.  And  tiicn  in  ancient  Uouie, 
says  Mommsen,  the  king's  "  costume  was  the  same  as  that 
of  the  supreme  god;  the  state-chariot,  even  in  the  city 
where  everyone  else  went  on  foot,  the  ivory  sceptre  with 
the  eagle,  the  verniilion-])ainted  face,  the  chaplet  of  oaken 
leaves  in  gold,  belonged  alike  to  the  Koman  god  and  to  the 
Roman  king." 

As  clearly  as  in  preceding  cases,  we  see,  in  the  genesis 
of  badges  and  costumes,  how  cercmojiial  government  begins 
with,  and  is  dcA'eloped  by,  inilitiiiicy.  'I'liose  badges  wliidi 
carry  us  back  for  their  derivation  to  ti'opliies  taken  from  tli.e 


BADGES  AND  COSTUMES.  .  195 

bodies  of  slain  Lriites  and  men,  conclusively  show  this;  and 
we  are  shown  it  with  equal  conclusiveness  by  those  badges, 
or  symbols  of  authority,  which  were  originally  weapons 
taken  from  the  vanquished.  On  finding  that  a  dress,  too, 
originally  consisting  of  a  wild  animal's  skin,  has  at  the  out- 
set like  implications  bringing  like  honours;  and  on  finding 
also  that  as  a  spoil  wrenched  from  the  conquered  man,  the 
dress,  whether  a  trophy  of  the  chase  or  of  other  kind,  comes 
by  its  presence  and  absence  to  be  distinctive  of  conqueror 
and  conquered;  and  on  further  finding  that  in  subsequent 
stages  such  additional  dress-distinctions  as  arise,  are  brought 
in  by  members  of  conquering;  societies,  differently  clothed 
from  both  upper  and  lower  classes  of  the  societies  con- 
quered; we  are  shown  that  from  the  beginning  these  con- 
spicuous marks  of  superiority  and  inferiority  resulted  from' 
war.  And  after  seeing  how  war  incidentally  initiated 
badges  and  costumes,  we  shall  imderstand  how  there  fol- 
lowed a  conscious  recognition  of  them  as  connected  with 
success  in  arms,  and  as  being  for  that  reason  honourable. 
Instances  of  this  direct  relation  are  furnished  by  the  mili- 
tant societies  of  ancient  America.  In  Mexico,  the  king 
could  not  wear  full  dress  before  he  had  made  a  prisoner  in 
battle.  In  Peru,  "  those  (of  the  vassals)  who  had  worked 
most  in  the  subjugation  of  the  other  Indians  .  .  .  were  al- 
lowed to  imitate  the  Ynca  most  closely  in  their  badges." 
And  how  dresses,  at  first  marking  military  supremacy,  be- 
come afterwards  dresses  marking  political  supremacy,,  or 
political  power  derived  from  it,  we  may  gather  from  the 
statement  that  in  ancient  Rome  "  the  toga  jpicta  and  the  toga 
palmata  (the  latter  so  called  from  the  palm  branches  em- 
broidered on  it)  were  worn  by  victorious  commanders  at 
their  triumphs;  also  (in  imperial  times)  by  consuls  entering 
on  their  office,  by  the  prsetors  at  i\\ej)ompa  circensis,  and  by 
tribunes  of  the  peoi)le  at  theAugustalia." 

Enforcing  direct  evidence  of  this  kind,  comes  the  in- 
direct evidence  obtained  by  comparing  sc^cieties  of  different 


100  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

types  and  by  comparing  different  stages  of  the  same  society. 
In  (Miiiia  and  Japan,  where  the  i)olitical  organization 
evolved  in  ancient  times  by  war,  acqnired  a  rigidity  which 
has  kept  it  nnchanged  till  modern  times,  we  see  great  per- 
sistence of  these  class-badges  and  costumes;  and  among 
European  nations,  those  which  have  retiuned  types  pre- 
dominantly militant,  are  in  gi'eater  degrees  characterized 
by  the  prevalence  of  special  dresses  and  decorations  than 
those  which  have  become  relatively  industrial  in  their  types. 
In  Russia,  "  a  dress  which  could  not  denote  the  rank  of 
the  man,  and  a  man  whose  only  worth  should  arise  from  his 
personal  merit,  would  be  considered  as  anomalies."  De- 
scribing a  Russian  dinner-party.  Dr.  Moritz  Wagner  says — 
"  I  found  that  on  the  breasts  of  thirty-five  military  guests, 
there  glittered  more  than  two  hundred  stars  and  crosses; 
many  of  the  coats  of  generals  had  more  orders  than  but- 
tons." And  this  trait  which  by  contrast  strikes  a  German  in 
Russia,  similarly  by  contrast  strikes  an  Englishman  in  (ler- 
many.  Capt.  Spencer  remarks — "  I  do  not  believe  that  any 
people  in  Europe  are  more  partial  to  titles  and  orders  than 
the  Germans,  and  more  especially  the  Austrians."  And 
then  after  recalling  the  differences  between  the  street-scenes 
on  the  Continent  and  in  England,  caused  by  the  relative  in- 
frequency  here  of  official  costumes,  military  and  civil,  we 
are  reminded  of  a  further  difference  of  kindred  natiu'e. 
For  here  among  the  non-official,  there  are  fewer  remnants 
of  those  class-distinctions  in  dress  which  were  everywhere 
pronounced  during  tlie  more  militant  ])ast.  The  blouse  of 
the  Frenfch  workman  stainps  him  in  a  way  in  whicli  the 
workman  in  England  is  not  stam])cd  by  his  compai-ativcly 
varied  dress;  and  the  French  woman-servant  is  niucli  more 
clearly  identifiable  as  such  by  cai)  ainl  udwii  tliaii  is  her 
sister  in  England.  Along  with  this  obliteration  of  visible 
distinctions  carried  further  at  home  than  al)road,  there  is 
anotlici-  kind  of  obliteration  also  carried  further.  Official 
costunu's,  in  early  times  worn  constantly,  have  tended  in 


BADGES  AND  COSTUMES.  197 

the  less  militant  countries  to  fall  into  disnse,  save  during 
times  for  performing  official  functions;  and  in  England 
this  change,  more  marked  than  elsewhere,  has  gone  to  the 
extent  of  leading  even  military  and  naval  officers  to  assume 
"  mufti  "  when  off  duty. 

Most  striking,  however,  is  the  evidence  yielded  by  the 
general  contrast  between  the  controlling  part  of  each  so- 
ciety and  the  controlled  part.  The  facts  that  those  who 
form  the  regulative  organization,  which  is  originated  by 
militancy,  are  distinguished  from  those  who  form  the  or- 
ganization regulated,  which  is  of  industrial  origin,  by  the 
prevalence  among  them  of  visible  signs  of  rank;  and  that 
the  militant  part  of  this  regulative  organization  is  more 
than  the  rest  characterized  by  the  conspicuousness,  multi- 
plicity, and  definiteness,  of  those  costumes  and  badges 
which  distinguish  both  its  numerous  divisions  and  the  nu- 
merous ranks  in  each  division;  are  facts  unmistakably  sup- 
])orting  the  inference  that  militancy  has  generated  all  these 
marks  of  suj^eriority  and  inferiority. 


71 


CHAPTER  X. 


FURTHER    CLASS-DISTINCTIONS. 


§  41G.  Forcg'oin<2j  chapters  have  shown  liow,  from 
primitive  usages  of  the  ceremonial  kind,  tliere  are  derived 
usages  M'liich,  in  course  of  time,  lose  the  more  ohvions  traces 
of  their  origin.  There  remain  to  be  pointed  ont  groups  of 
secondarily-derived  usages  still  more  divergent. 

In  battle,  it  is  im])ortant  to  get  the  force  of  gravity  to 
fight  on  your  side;  and  hence  the  anxiety  to  seize  a  position 
above  that  of  the  foe.  Conversely,  the  combatant  who  is 
thrown  down,  cannot  further  resist  without  struggling 
against  his  own  weight,  as  well  as  against  his  antagonist's 
strength.  Hence,  being  below  is  so  habitually  associated 
with  defeat,  as  to  have  made  maintenance  of  this  relation 
(literally  expressed  by  the  words  superior  and  inferior)  a 
leading  element  in  ceremony  at  large.  The  idea  of  relative 
elevation  as  distinguishing  the  positions  of  rulers  from  those 
of  ruled,  runs  through  our  language;  as  when  we  speak  of 
higher  and  lower  classes,  ujiper  and  under  servants,  and  call 
officers  of  minor  rank  subordinates  or  subalterns.  Every- 
where this  idea  enters  into  social  observances.  That  ten- 
dency to  connect  the  higher  level  with  honourableness, 
which  among  ourselves  in  old  times  was  shown  by  reserving 
the  dais  for  those  of  rank  and  leaving  the  body  of  the  hall 
for  common  people,  produces  in  the  East,  where  ceremonial 
is  so  greatly  developed,  various  rigid  regulations.  Writing 
of  Lombock,  Wallace  says — 

198 


FURTHER  CLASS-DISTINCTIONS.  199 

"The  highest  seat  is  literally,  with  these  people,  the  place  of 
honour  and  the  sign  of  rank.  So  unbending  are  the  rules  in  this  re- 
spect, that  when  an  English  carriage  which  the  Rajah  of  Lombock 
had  sent  for,  arrived,  it  waa  found  impossible  to  use  it  because  the 
driver's  seat  was  the  highest,  and  it  had  to  be  kept  as  a  show  in  its 
coach-house." 

Similarly,  according  to  Yule,  in  Burmah.  "  That  any  per- 
son should  occupy  a  floor  over  head,  would  be  felt  as  an  in- 
tense degradation.  ...  To  the  same  reason  is  generally 
ascribed  the  little  use  made  by  the  kings  of  Ava  of  the  car- 
riages, which  have  at  various  times  been  sent  to  them  as 
presents."    So  too  of  Siam,  Bowring  remarks: — 

"No  man  of  inferior  rank  dares  to  raise  his  head  to  the  level  of 
that  of  his  superior;  no  person  can  cross  a  bridge  if  an  individual  of 
higher  grade  chances  to  be  passing  below ;  no  mean  person  may  walk 
upon  a  floor  above  that  occupied  by  his  betters." 
And  this  idea  that  relative  elevation  is  an  essential  accom- 
paniment of  superior  rank,  we  shall  presently  see  dictates 
several  kinds  of  sumptuary  regulations. 

Other  derivative  class-distinctions  are  sequent  upon  dif- 
ferences of  wealth;  which  themselves  originally  follow 
differences  of  power.  From  that  earliest  stage  in  which 
master  and  slave  are  literally  captor  and  captive,  abundance 
of  means  has  been  the  natural  concomitant  of  mastery,  and 
poverty  the  concomitant  of  slavery.  Hence  where  the 
militant  type  of  organization  predominates,  being  rich  in- 
directly implies  being  victorious,  or  having  the  political 
su])rema(*y  gained  by  victory.  It  is  true  that  some  primi- 
tive societies  furnish  exceptions.  Among  the  Dacotahs 
"  the  civil-chiefs  and  war-chiefs  are  distinguished  from  the 
rest  by  their  poverty.  They  generally  are  poorer  clad  than 
any  of  the  rest."  The  like  holds  of  the  Abipones,  whose 
customs  supply  an  explanation.  A  cazique,  distinguished 
by  the  "  peculiar  oldness  and  shabbiness  "  of  his  clothes, 
remains  shabby  because,  if  he  puts  on  "  new  and  handsome 
apparel,  .  .  .  the  first  person  he  meets  will  boldly  cry 
^  Give   me   that  dress '  .  .  .  and   unless   he   immediately 


200  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

parts  with  it,  lie  becomes  the  seoft"  and  tlio  scorn  of  all,  and 
hears  hiniscdf  called  covetous  and  nii>-i;ardly."  IJut  with  a 
few  such  exceptions,  marks  of  wealth  are  regarded  as  marks 
of  honour,  even  by  primitive  peoples.  Among  the  Misli- 
mis, 

"The  skull  of  every  animal  that  has  graced  tiie  board,  is  hung  up 
as  a  record  in  the  hall  of  the  entertainer ;  .  .  .  and  when  he  dies,  the 
whole  smoke-dried  collection  of  many  years  is  i)iled  upon  his  grave 
as  a  monument  of  his  riches  and  a  memorial  of  his  worth." 
A  like  usage  occurs  in  Africa.  "  The  Bambarans,"  says 
Caillie,  "  hang  on  the  outside  of  their  huts  the  heads  of  all 
the  animals  they  eat;  this  is  looked  upon  as  a  mark  of  gran- 
deur." And  then  on  the  Gold  Coast,  "  the  richest  man  is 
the  most  honoured,  without  the  least  regard  to  nobility." 
a^aturally  the  honouring  of  wealth,  beginning  in  these  early 
stages,  continues  through  subsequent  stages;  and  signs  of 
wealth  hence  become  class-distinctions:  so  originating  vari- 
ous ceremonial  restrictions. 

Carrying  with  us  the  two  ruling  ideas  thus  briefly  exem- 
plified, we  shall  readily  trace  the  genesis  of  sundry  curious 
observances. 

§  417.  In  trojiical  countries  the  irritation  produced  by 
flies  is  a  chief  misery  in  life;  and  sundry  habits  which 
in  our  eyes  are  repulsive,  result  from  endeavours  to  mitigate 
this  misery.  In  the  absence  of  anything  better,  the  lower 
races  of  mankind  cover  their  bodies  with  tilms  of  dirt  as 
shields  against  these  insect-enemies.  Hence,  apparently, 
one  motive  for  painting  the  skin.  Juarros  says: — "  The 
barbarians,  or  unreclaimed  Indians,  of  Guatemala  .... 
always  paint  themselves  black,  rather  for  the  purpose  of 
defence  against  moscpiitoes  than  for  ornament."  And  then 
we  get  an  indication  that  where  the  pigment  used,  being 
decorative  and  costly,  is  indicative  of  wealth,  the  abundant 
use  of  it  becomes  honourable.  In  Tanna  "  some  of  the 
chiefs  show  their  rank  by  an  extra  coat  of  pif^nent  [red 


FURTHER  CLASS-DISTINCTIONS.  201 

earth  on  tlie  face],  and  have  it  plastered  on  as  thick  as 
clay."  Coming  in  this  way  to  distinguish  the  man  of  power 
who  possesses  mnch,  from  subject  men  who  possess  little, 
the  putting  on  of  a  protective  covering  to  the  skin,  grows 
into  a  ceremony  indicating  supremacy.  Says  D.  Duran 
of  the  Mexicans,  "'  they  anointed  [Vitziliuitl,  the  elected 
king]  on  his  whole  body  with  the  bitumen  with  which  they 
anointed  the  statue  of  their  god  Vitzilopochtli;  "  and  speci- 
fying otherwise  the  material  used,  Ilerrera  says  "  they 
crowned  and  anointed  Vitzilocutly  with  an  ointment  they 
called  divine,  because  they  used  it  to  their  idol." 

Instead  of  earths,  paints,  and  bitununous  substances, 
other  people  employ  for  protecting  the  skin,  oils  and  fatty 
matters.  Proof  exists  that  the  use  of  these  also,  in  gi-eat 
quantity  and  of  superior  quality,  serves  to  indicate  wealth, 
and  consequently  rank;  and,  guided  by  the  above  facts,  we 
may  suspect  that  there  have  hence  arisen  certain  ceremonies 
performed  in  recognition  of  superior  power.  Africa  fur- 
nishes two  pieces  of  evidence  which  go  far  to  justify  this 
conclusion. 

"The  richer  a  Hottentot  is,"  says  Kolben,  "the  more  Fat  and 
Butter  he  emploj's  in  anointing  himself  and  his  family.  This  is  the 
grand  Distinction  between  the  Rich  and  the  Poor.  .  .  .  Everyone's 
Wealth,  Magnificence,  and  Finery  being  measured  by  the  Quantity 
and  delicacy  of  the  Butter  or  Fat  upon  his  Body  and  Apparel." 
And  then  we  read  in  AVilkinson  that — 

"With  the  Egyptians  as  with  the  Jews,  the  investiture  to  any 
sacred  office,  as  that  of  king  or  priest,  was  confirmed  by  this  external 
sign  [of  anointing] ;  and  as  the  Jewish  lawgiver  mentions  the  cere- 
mony of  pouring  oil  on  the  head  of  the  high-priest  after  he  had  put 
on  his  entire  dress,  witli  the  mitre  and  crown,  the  Egyptians  repre- 
sent the  anointing  of  their  priests  and  kings  after  they  were  attired 
in  their  full  robes  with  the  cap  and  crown  upon  their  head.  .  .  . 
They  also  anointed  the  statues  of  the  gods ;  which  was  done  with  the 
little  finger  of  the  right  hand.  .  .  .  The  custom  of  anointing  was  the 
ordinary  token  of  welcome  to  guests  in  every  party  at  the  house  of  a 
friend.  .  .  .  The  dead  were  made  to  participate  in  it,  as  if  sensible 
of  the  token  of  esteem  thus  bestowed  upon  them." 


202  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Wlicn  "\vc  tlms  find  tliat  among  sonic  nncinlizctl  people 
the  abundance  and  fine  quality  of  the  fat  used  for  protecting 
the  skin  marks  wealth,  and  consequently  rank;  when  we 
join  with  this  a  i)roof  that  the  anointinp;  with  unguents 
among  the  Egyptians  was  an  act  of  pro])itiation,  alike  to 
gods,  kings,  deceased  persons,  and  ordinary  guests;  and 
when  we  remember  that  the  anointment  with  which  Christ 
w^as  anointed  was  "precious;"  we  may  reasonably  infer 
that  this  ceremony  attending  investiture  with  sovereign- 
ty was  originally  one  indicating  the  wealth  that  implied 
power. 

§  418.  The  idea  of  relative  height  and  the  idea  of  rela- 
tive wealth,  appear  to  join  in  originating  certain  building 
regulations  expressive  of  class-distinctions.  An  elevated 
abode  implies  at  once  display  of  riches  and  assumption  of 
a  position  overlooking  others.  Hence,  in  various  places, 
limitations  of  the  heights  to  which  different  ranks  may 
build.  In  ancient  Mexico,  under  [Montezuma's  laws,  "  no 
one  was  allowed  to  build  a  house  with  [several]  stories,  ex- 
cept the  great  lords  and  gallant  captains,  on  pain  of  death." 
A  kindred  regulation  exists  at  the  present  time  in  Dahomey; 
where  the  king,  wishing  to  honour  some  one,  "  gave  him  a 
formal  leave  to  build  a  house  two  stories  high;  "  and  where 
"  the  palace  and  the  city  gates  are  allowed  five  surisli 
[steps] ;  chiefs  have  four  tall  or  five  short,  and  all  others 
three,  or  as  the  king  directs."  There  are  restrictions  of  like 
kind  in  Japan.  "  The  height  of  the  street-front,  and  even 
the  number  of  windows,  are  determined  by  sumptuary 
laws."  So,  too,  is  it  in  Eurmali.  Yule  says: — "  The  char- 
acter of  house,  and  esjiecially  of  ro^f,  n])iiro])riate  to  each 
rank,  aj)pears  to  be  a  matter  of  regulation,  or  inviolable  pre- 
scription; "  and,  according  to  Sangermano,  "nothing  less 
than  death  can  expiate  tlu*  crime,  cither  of  clioosing  a  shape 
[  for  a  liouse]  tluit  does  not  belong  to  tlic  <lignity  of  the  nuis- 
ter,  or  of  painting  the  house  white;  wliich  colour  is  per- 


FURTHER  CLASS-DISTINCTIONS.  203 

mitted  to  tlie  members  of  the  royal  family  alone."     More 
detailed  are  the  interdicts  named  by  Syme. 

"Piasath,  the  regal  spire,  distinguishes  the  dwellings  of  the  mon- 
arch and  the  temples  of  the  divinity.  To  none  other  is  it  allowed. 
.  .  .  There  are  no  brick  buildings  either  in  Pegue  or  Rangoon  except 
such  as  belong  to  the  king,  or  are  dedicated  to  their  divinity  Gauda- 
ma,  .  .  .  Gilding  is  forbidden  to  all  subjects  of  the  Birman  Empire. 
Liberty  even  to  lacker  and  paint  the  pillars  of  their  houses,  is  granted 
to  very  few." 

§  419.  Along  with  laws  forbidding  those  of  inferior 
rank  to  have  the  higher  and  more  ornamental  houses  which 
naturally  imply  the  wealth  that  accompanies  power,  there 
go  interdicts  on  the  use  by  common  people  of  various  appli- 
ances to  comfort  which  the  man  of  rank  and  influence  has. 
Among  these  may  first  be  noted  artificial  facilities  for  loco- 
motion. 

A  sketch  in  an  African  book  of  travels,  representing  the 
king  of  Obbo  making  a  progress,  seated  on  the  shoulders  of 
an  attendant,  shows  us  in  its  primitive  form,  the  connexion 
between  being  carried  by  other  men  and  the  exercise  of 
power  over  other  men.  Marking,  by  implication,  a  ruling- 
person,  the  palanquin  or  equivalent  vehicle  is  in  many 
places  forbidden  to  inferior  persons.  Among  the  ancient 
Chibchas,  "  the  law  did  not  allow  any  one  to  be  carried  in  a 
litter  on  the  shouhku-s  of  his  men,  except  the  Bogota  and 
those  to  whom  he  gave  the  privilege."  Prior  to  the  year 
1821,  no  person  in  Madagascar  "  was  allowed  to  ride  in  the 
native  chair  or  palanquin,  except  the  royal  family,  the 
judges,  and  first  ofiicers  of  state."  So,  too,  in  Europe,  there 
have  been  restrictions  on  the  use  of  such  chairs.  Among  the 
Romans,  "  in  town  only  the  senators  and  ladies  were  al- 
lowed to  be  carried  in  them;  "  and  in  France,  in  past  times, 
the  sedan  was  forbidchni  to  those  below  a  certain  rank.  In 
some  ])laces  the  social  status  oi  the  occupant  is  indicated  by 
the  more  or  less  costly  accompaniments.  Koempfer  says 
that  in  Japan,  "  the  bigness  and  length  of  these   [sedan] 


204  CEREMONIAfj   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

poles  had  luHMi  (Ictcriuiiicd  l)_v  the  political  laws  of  the  em- 
pire, proportionable  to  every  one's  qnalitv."  .  .  .  The 
seilan  "  is  carried  h\  two,  four,  eight,  or  more  men,  accord- 
ing to  the  quality  of  tlie  person  in  it."  The  like  li;i|)])ens  in 
China.  "  The  hii;liest  (^)tHcers  are  carried  by  eight  bearers, 
others  bv  fonr,  and  the  lowest  bv  two:  this,  and  every  other 
particular,  being  regulated  by  laws."  Then,  elsewhere,  the 
character  of  ai)])liances  for  locomotion  on  water  is  sinnlarly 
prescribed.  In  Tnrkey,  "  the  hierarchy  of  rank  is  main- 
tained and  designated  by  the  size  of  each  Turkish  function- 
ary's boat;  "  and  in  Siani  "  the  height  and  ornaments  of  the 
cabin  [in  barges]  designate  the  rank  or  the  functions  of  the 
occupier."  * 

As  the  possession  of  chair-bearers,  who  in  early  stages 
are  slaves,  implies  alike  the  mastery  and  the  wealth  always 
indicative  of  rank  in  societies  of  militant  type ;  so,  too,  does 
possession  of  attendants  to  carry  umbrellas  or  other  protec- 
tions against  the  sun.  Hence  interdicts  on  the  use  of  these 
by  inferiors.  Such  restrictions  occur  in  comparatively 
early  stages.  In  Fiji  (Somo-somo)  only  the  king  and  the 
two  high  priests  in  favour,  can  use  the  sun-shade.  In  Congo 
only  those  of  royal  blood  are  allowed  to  use  an  umbrella, 
or  to  be  carried  in  a  mat.  The  sculptured  records  of  ex- 
tinct eastern  peoples,  imply  the  existence  of  this  class-mark. 
Among  the  Assyrians, 

"the  officers  in  close  attendance  upon  the  monarch  varied  accord- 
ing to  his  emploj'ment.  In  war  he  was  accompanied  by  his  chariot- 
eer, his  shield-bearer  or  shield-bearers,  his  groom,  his  quiver-bearer, 
his  mace-bearer,  and  sometimes  bj'  his  parasol-bearer.  In  peace  the 
])arasol-bearer  is  always  rei)resented  as  in  attendance,  except  in  hunt- 
ing expaditions,  or  where  he  is  replaced  by  a  fan-bearer." 
Adjacent  parts  of  the  world  show  us  the  same  mark  of  dis- 
tinction in  use  down  to  the  present  time.  "  From  India  to 
Abyssinia,"  says  Burton,  "  the  umbrella  is  the  sign  of  roy- 
alty." Still  further  east  this  symbol  of  dignity  is  multiplied 
to  jiroduce  the  idea  of  greater  dignity.     In  Siam,  at  the 


FURTHER  CLASS-DISTINCTIONS.  205 

king's  coronation,  "  a  page  comes  forward  and  presents  to 
the  king-  the  seven-storied  nnibrella, — the  savetraxat  or 
primary  symbol  of  royalty."  And  when  the  emperor  of 
China  leaves  his  palace,  he  is  accompanied  by  twenty  men 
bearing  large  nml)rellas  and  twenty  fan-bearers.  Else- 
where umbrellas,  not  monopolized  by  kings,  may  be  iised  by 
others,  but  with  differences;  as  in  Java,  where  custom  pre- 
scribes six  colours  for  the  umbrellas  of  six  ranks.  Evi- 
dently the  shade-yielding  umbrella  is  closely  allied  to  the 
shade-yielding  canopy;  the  use  of  which  also  is  a  class-dis- 
tinction. Ancient  America  furnished  a  good  instance. 
In  Utlatlan  the  king  sat  under  four  canopies,  the  "  elect " 
under  three,  the  chief  captain  under  two,  and  the  second 
captain  under  one.  And  here  we  are  reminded  that  this  de- 
veloped form  of  the  umbrella,  having  four  supports,  is 
alike  in  the  East  and  in  Europe,  used  in  exaltation  of  both 
the  divine  ruler  and  the  human  ruler:  in  the  one  region 
borne  by  attendants  over  kings  and  supported  in  a  more  per- 
manent manner  over  the  cars  in  which  idols  are  drawn ;  and 
in  the  other  used  alike  in  state-processions  and  ecclesiastical 
processions,  to  shade  now  the  monarch  and  now  the  Host. 

Of  course  with  regulations  giving  to  higher  ranks  the 
exclusive  enjoyment  of  the  more  costly  conveniences,  there 
go  others  forbidding  the  inferior  to  have  conveniences  of 
even  less  costly  natures.  For  example,  in  Fiji  the  best  kind 
of  mat  for  lying  on  is  forbidden  to  the  common  people.  In 
Dahomey,  the  use  of  hammocks  is  a  royal  prerogative, 
shared  in  only  by  the  whites.  Concerning  the  Siamese, 
Bowring  says: — "  We  were  informed  that  the  use  of  such 
cushions  [more  or  less  ornamented,  according  to  rank]  was 
prohibited  to  the  people."  And  we  learn  from  Bastian  that 
among  the  Joloffs  the  use  of  the  mosquito-curtain  is  a  royal 
prerogative. 

§  420.  Of  sumptuary  laws,  those  regulating  the  uses  of 
foods  may  be  traced  back  to  very  early  stages — stages  in 


206  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

which  usages  have  not  yet  taken  the  sliapc  of  hiws.  They 
go  along  with  the  subordination  of  the  young  to  the  old, 
and  of  females  to  males.  Among  the  Tasmanians,  "  the  old 
men  get  the  best  food;  "  and  Sturt  says,  "  only  the  old  men 
of  the  natives  of  Australia  have  the  privilege  of  eating  the 
emu.  For  a  yoimg  man  to  eat  it  is  a  crime."  The  Khond 
women,  Maephcrson  tells  us,  "  for  some  unknown  cause, 
are  never,  I  am  informed,  permitted  to  eat  the  flesh  of  the 
hog."  In  Tahiti  "  the  men  were  allowed  to  eat  the  flesh  of 
the  pig,  and  of  fowls,  and  a  variety  of  fish,  cocoa-nuts,  and 
plantains,  and  whatever  was  presented  as  an  offering  to  the 
gods,  which  the  females,  on  pain  of  death,  were  forbidden 
to  touch."  After  stating  that  the  Fijian  women  are  never 
permitted  to  enter  the  temple,  the  United  States'  explorers 
add — ''  nor,  as  we  have  seen,  to  eat  human  flesh,  at  least  in 
public." 

Of  food-restrictions  other  than  those  referring  to  age 
and  sex,  may  first  be  named  one  from  Fiji — one  which  also 
refers  to  the  consumpticm  of  human  flesh.  Seeman  says 
"  the  common  people  throughout  the  grou]),  as  well  as 
women  of  all  classes,  were  by  custom  debarred  from  it. 
Cannibalism  was  thus  restricted  to  the  chiefs  and  gentry." 
Of  other  class-restrictions  on  food,  ancient  America  fur- 
nishes examples.  Among  the  Chibchas,  "  venison  could 
not  be  eaten  unless  the  privilege  liad  been  granted  by  the 
cazique."  In  San  Salvador,  "  none  formerly  drank  choco- 
late but  the  ])rime  men  and  notable  soldiers;  "  and  in  Peru 
"the  kings  (Yncas)  had  the  coca  as  a  royal  possession 
and  privilege." 

Of  course  there  might  be  added  to  these  certain  of  tlie 
sumptuary  laws  respecting  food  which  prevailed  during 
past  times  throughout  Europe. 

§  421.  Of  tlie  various  class-distinctions  which  imply  su- 
perior rank  by  implying  greater  wealth,  the  most  curious  re- 
main.   I  refer  to  certain  inconvenient,  and  sometimes  pain- 


FURTHER  CLASS-DISTINCTIONS.  207 

ful,  traits,  only  to  be  acquired  by  those  whose  abundant 
means  ena])le  them  to  live  without  labour,  or  to  indulge  in 
some  kind  of  sensual  excess. 

One  group  of  these  distinctions,  slightly  illustrated 
among  ourselves  by  the  pride  taken  in  delicate  hands,  as  in- 
dicating freedom  from  manual  labor,  is  exhibited  in 
marked  forms  in  some  societies  that  are  comparatively  little 
advanced.  "  The  chiefs  in  the  Society  Islands  value  them- 
selves on  having  long  nails  on  all,  or  on  some,  of  their  fin- 
gers." "  Fijian  kings  and  priests  wear  the  finger  nails 
long,"  says  Jackson;  and  in  Sumatra,  "  persons  of  superior 
rank  encourage  the  growth  of  their  hand-nails,  particular- 
ly those  of  the  fore  and  little  fingers,  to  an  extraordinary 
length."  Everyone  knows  that  a  like  usage  has  a  like  ori- 
gin in  China;  where,  however,  long  nails  have  partially 
lost  their  meaning:  upper  servants  being  allowed  to  weaf 
them.  But  of  personal  defects  similarly  originating,  China 
furnishes  a  far  more  striking  instance  in  the  cramped  feet  of 
ladies.  Obviously  these  have  become  signs  of  class-dis- 
tinction, because  of  the  implied  inability  to  labour,  and 
the  implied  possession  of  means  sufiicient  to  purchase  at- 
tendance. Then,  again,  as  marking  rank  because 
implying  riches,  we  have  undue,  and  sometimes  excessive, 
fatness;  either  of  the  superior  person  himself  or  of  his  be- 
longings. The  beginnings  of  this  may  be  traced  in  quite 
early  stages ;  as  among  some  uncivilized  American  peoples. 
"  An  Indian  is  respectahle  in  his  own  community,  in  propor- 
tion as  his  wife  and  children  look  fat  and  well  fed :  this  be- 
ing a  proof  of  his  prowess  and  success  as  a  hunter,  and  his 
consequent  riches."  From  this  case,  in  which  the  relation 
between  implied  wealth  and  implied  power  is  directly  rec- 
ognized, we  pass  in  the  course  of  social  development  to  cases 
in  which,  instead  of  the  normal  fatness  indicating  suffi- 
ciency, there  comes  the  abnormal  fatness  indicating  super- 
fluity, and,  consequently,  greater  wealth.  In  China,  great 
fatness  is  a  source  of  pride  in  a  maudiu'in.     Ellis  tells  us 


208  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tliiit  oorpiiloiioe  is  n  luai'k  of  distiiu'tidii  niiioiii;'  'Paliitian 
feinalos.  'rhi-(>uj;li()ut  Africa  tluTc  ])r('vails  an  adiiiiratioii 
for  coqHileiK'C  in  woiucii,  wliit-li,  in  some  i)hu-es,  risos  to  a 
great  pitch;  as  in  Karagiie  where  the  king-  has  "  verv  fat 
wives  " — wliere,  according  to  Speke,  the  king's  sister-indaw 
"  was  another  of  those  wonch'rs  of  obesity,  unable  to  stand 
excepting  on  all  fours,"  and  where,  ""  as  fattening  is  the 
first  duty  of  fashionable  female  life,  it  must  be  duly  en- 
forced by  the  rod  if  necessary."  Still  stranger 
are  the  marks  of  digiiity  constituted  by  diseases  resulting 
from  those  excessive  gratifications  of  appetite  which  weallli 
makes  possible.  Even  among  ourselves  may  be  traced  an 
association  of  ideas  whi(di  thus  originates.  The  story  about 
a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  who,  hearing  that  some  man 
of  inferior  extraction  was  suffering  from  gout,  exclaimed — 
"  Damn  the  fellow;  wasn't  rlicumatism  good  enough  for 
him,"  illustrates  the  still-current  idea  that  gout  is  a  gentle- 
manly disease,  because  it  results  from  that  high  living  which 
presupposes  the  abundant  means  usually  associated  with  su- 
perior position.  Introduced  by  this  instance,  the  instance 
which  comes  to  us  from  Polynesia  will  seem  not  unnatural. 
"  The  habitual  use  of  ava  causes  a  whitish  scurf  on  the  skin, 
which  among  the  heathen  Tahitians  was  reckoned  a  badge 
of  nobility;  the  common  people  not  having  the  means  of 
indulgence  requisite  to  produce  it."  But  of  all  marks  of 
dignity  arising  in  this  way,  or  indeed  in  any  way,  the 
strangest  is  one  which  Ximenez  tells  us  of  as  existing 
among  the  people  of  ancient  Guatemala.  The  sign  of  a 
disorder,  here  best  left  unspecified,  whi(di  the  nobles  were 
liable  to,  because  of  habits  which  wealth  made  possible, 
had  become  among  the  Guatemalans  a  sign  "  of  great- 
ness and  majesty;  "  and  its  name  was  applied  even  to  the 
deity ! 

§  422.  How  these  further  (dass-distinct Ions,  tliough  not, 
like  preceding  ones,  directly  traceable  to  nulitancy,  arc  in- 


FURTHER  CLASS-DISTINCTIONS.  200 

directly  traceable  to  it,  and  how  tlicy  fade  as  industrialism 
develo])s,  need  not  be  shown  at  length. 

Foregoing  instances  make  it  clear  that  they  are  still 
maintained  rigorously  in  societies  characterized  by  that  type 
of  organization  which  continuous  war  establishes;  and  that 
they  prevailed  to  considerable  degrees  during  the  past  war- 
like times  of  more  civilized  societies.  Conversely,  they 
show  that  as,  along  with  the  rise  of  a  wealth  which  does 
not  imply  rank,  luxuries  and  costly  modes  of  life  have 
spread  to  those  who  do  not  form  part  of  the  regulative  or- 
ganization; tlie  growtli  of  industrialism  tends  to  abolish 
these  marks  of  class-distinction  wliich  militancy  originates. 
No  matter  what  form  they  take,  all  these  supplementary 
rules  debarring  the  inferior  from  usages  and  appliances 
characterizing  the  superior,  belong  to  a  social  regime  based 
on  coercive  co-operation;  while  that  unchecked  liberty 
wliich,  among  ourselves,  the  classes  regulated  have  to  imi- 
tate the  regidating  classes  in  habits  and  expenditure,  be- 
longs to  the  regime  of  voluntary  co-operation. 


CHAPTER   XL 

FASHION. 

§  423.  To  say  notliing  about  Fashion  under  the  general 
head  of  Ceremonial  Institution  would  be  to  leave  a  gap; 
and  yet  Fashion  is  difficult  to  deal  with  in  a  systematic  man- 
ner. Throughout  the  several  forms  of  social  control  thus 
far  treated,  we  have  found  certain  pervading  characters 
traceable  to  common  origins;  and  the  conclusions  reached 
have  hence  been  definite.  But  those  miscellaneous  and 
ever-changing  regidations  of  conduct  which  the  name  Fash- 
ion covers,  are  not  similarly  interpretable;  nor  does  any 
single  inter]u-ctation  suffice  for  them  all. 

In  the  ]\lutilati()ns,  the  Presents,  the  Visits,  the  Obei- 
sances, the  Forms  of  Address,  the  Titles,  the  Badges  and 
Costinnes,  &c.  we  see  enforced,  not  likeness  between  the 
acts  of  higher  and  lower,  but  unlikeness:  tliat  which  the 
ruler  does  the  ruled  must  not  do;  and  tliat  which  the  ruled 
is  commanded  to  do  is  that  which  is  avoided  by  the  ruler. 
But  in  those  modifications  of  behaviour,  dress,  mode  of 
life,  &G.,  which  constitute  Fashion,  likeness  instead  of  un- 
likeness is  insisted  u]ion.  Pes])ect  nuist  be  show7i  by  follow- 
ing the  exami)le  of  tliose  in  authority,  not  by  differing  from 
them.    How  does  tliere  arise  this  contrariety? 

The  explanation  ai)])ears  to  be  this.  Fasliion  is  intrinsi- 
cally imitative.  Imitation  may  result  from  two  widely 
divergent  motives.     It  may  be  promi)t('d  by  reverence  for 

one  imitated,  or  it  may  be  ])r()inpted  by  the  desire  to  assert 

210 


FASHION.  211 

equality  witli  him.  Between  the  imitations  prompted  by 
these  unlike  motives,  no  clear  distinction  can  be  drawn; 
and  hence  results  the  possibility  of  a  transition  from  those 
reverential  imitations  going  along  with  much  subordina- 
tion, to  those  competitive  imitations  characterizing  a  state  of 
comparative  independence. 

Setting  out  with  this  idea  as  our  clue,  let  us  observe  how 
the  reverential  imitations  are  initiated,  and  how  there  be- 
gins the  transition  from  them  to  the  competitive  imitations. 

§  424.  Given  a  society  characterized  by  servile  submis- 
sion, and  in  what  cases  will  a  superior  be  propitiated  by  the 
imitations  of  an  inferior?  In  respect  of  what  traits  will  as- 
sumption of  equality  with  him  be  complimentary?  Only 
in  respect  of  his  defects. 

From  the  usages  of  those  tyrannically-ceremonious  sav- 
ages the  Fijians,  may  be  given  an  instance  well  illustrating 
the  motive  and  the  result. 

*'  A  chief  was  one  day  going  over  a  mountain- path,  followed  by  a 
long  string  of  his  people,  when  he  hap])ened  to  stumble  and  fall ;  all 
the  rest  of  the  people  immediately  did  the  same,  except  one  man,  who 
was  instantly  set  upon  by  the  rest,  to  know  whether  he  considered 
himself  better  than  his  chief." 

And  Williams,  describing  his  attempt  to  cross  a  slip- 
pery bridge  formed  of  a  single  cocoa-nut  stem,  writes: — 

"Just  as  I  commenced  the  experiment,  a  heathen  said,  with  much 
animation,  'To-day,  I  shall  have  a  musket!'  ,  .  .  When  I  asked  him 
why  he  spoke  of  a  musket,  the  man  replied,  '  I  felt  certain  that  you 
would  fall  in  attempting  to  go  over,  and  I  should  have  fallen  after 
you ; '  [that  is,  it  ajipeared  to  be  equally  clumsy ;]  '  and  as  the  bridge 
is  high,  the  water  rapid,  and  you  a  gentleman,  you  would  not  have 
thought  of  giving  me  less  than  a  musket. ' " 

Even  more  startling  is  a  kindred  practice  in  Africa, 
among  the  people  of  Darfur.  "  If  the  Sultan,  being  on 
horseback,  happens  to  fall  off,  all  his  followers  must  fall  off 
likewise;  and  should  anyone  omit  this  formality,  however 
great  he  may  be,  he  is  laid  down  and  beaten." 


212  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

SiiL'li  exaini)los  of  ciuk'UVdurs  to  i)lease  a  ruler  hy  avoid- 
ilia,'  any  appearance  of  superiority  to  liini,  seem  less  incredi- 
ble than  they  would  else  seem,  on  finding-  that  among  Euro- 
pean peoples  there  have  occurred,  if  not  like  examples,  still, 
analogous  examples.  In  14G1  Duke  Philip  of  Burgundy 
having  had  his  hair  cut  during  an  illness,  ''  issued  an  edict 
that  all  the  nobles  of  his  state  should  be  shorn  also.  ]\[ore 
than  five  hundred  i)ersons  .  .  .  sacrificed  their  hair." 
From  this  instance,  in  which  the  ruler  insisted  on  having 
his  defect  iuiitat<'d  by  the  ruled  against  their  wills  (for 
many  disobeyed),  we  may  pass  to  a  later  instance  in  which  a 
kindred  imitation  was  voluntary.  In  France,  in  1()05,  after 
the  operation  on  Lewis  XIV  for  fistula,  the  royal  infirmity 
became  the  fashion  among  the  courtiers. 

*'  Some  wlio  had  previously  taken  care  to  conceal  it  were  now  not 
asliamed  to  let  it  be  known.  There  were  even  courtiers  wlio  chose  to 
be  operated  on  in  Versailles,  because  the  king  was  then  informed  of 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  malady.  ...  I  have  seen  more  tlian 
thirty  wishing  to  be  operated  on,  and  whose  folly  was  so  great  that 
they  were  annoyed  when  told  that  there  was  no  occasion  to  do  so." 

And  now  if  with  cases  like  these  we  join  cases  in  which  a 
modification  of  dress  which  a  king  adopts  to  hide  a  defect 
(such  as  a  deep  neckcloth  where  a  scrofulous  neck  has  to  be 
concealed)  is  imitated  by  courtiers,  and  spreads  down- 
wards; we  see  how  from  that  desire  to  propitiate  which 
prom])ts  the  pretence  of  having  a  like  defect,  there  may  re- 
sult fashion  in  dress;  and  how  from  ap])roval  of  imitations 
of  this  kind  may  insensibly  come  tolerance  of  other  imita- 
tions. 

§  425.  Not  that  such  a  cause  would  produce  such  an 
effect  by  itself.  There  is  a  co-operating  cause  which  takes 
advantage  of  the  o])enings  thus  made.  Competitive  imita- 
tion, ever  going  as  far  as  authority  allows,  turns  to  its  own 
advantage  every  ojtportunity  which  reverential  imitation 
makes. 


FASHIOX.  213 

Tliis  competitive  imitation  begins  quite  as  early  as  tlie 
reverential.  Members  of  savage  tribes  are  not  unfrequent- 
ly  led  by  the  desire  for  applause  into  expenditure  relatively 
more  lavish  than  are  the  civilized.  There  are  barbarous 
peoples  among  whom  the  expected  hospitalities  on  the  occa- 
sion of  a  daughter's  marriage,  are  so  costly  as  to  excuse 
female  infanticide,  on  the  ground  that  the  ruinous  expense 
which  rearing  the  daughter  would  eventually  entail  is  thus 
avoided.  Thomson  and  Angas  unite  in  describing  the  ex- 
travagance into  which  the  I^ew  Zealand  chiefs  are  impelled 
by  fashion  in  giving  great  feasts,  as  often  causing  famines — 
feasts  for  which  chiefs  begin  to  provide  a  year  before :  each 
being  expected  to  out-do  his  neighbours  in  prodigality. 
And  the  motive  thus  coming  into  play  early  .in  social  evolu- 
tion, and  making  equals  vie  with  one  another  in  display, 
similarly  all  along  prompts  the  lower  to  vie,  so  far  as  they 
are  allowed,  with  the  higlier.  Everywhere  and  always  the 
tendency  of  the  inferior  to  assert  himself  has  been  in  an- 
tagonism with  the  restraints  imposed  on  him;  and  a  preva- 
lent way  of  asserting  himself  has  been  to  adopt  costumes 
and  appliances  and  customs  like  those  of  his  superior. 
Habitually  there  have  been  a  few  of  subordinate  rank  who, 
for  one  reason  or  other,  have  been  allowed  to  encroach  by 
imitating  the  ranks  above;  and  habitually  the  tendency 
has  been  to  multiply  the  precedents  for  imitation,  and  so  to 
establish  for  wider  chisses  the  freedom  to  live  and  dress  in 
ways  like  those  of  the  narrower  classes. 

Especially  has  tliis  luq)pened  as  fast  as  rank  and  wealth 
have  ceased  to  be  coincident — as  fast,  that  is,  as  industrial- 
ism has  produced  men  rich  enough  to  compete  in  style  of 
living""\vith  those  above  them  in  rank.  Partly  from  the 
greater  means,  and  partly  from  the  consequent  greater 
power,  acquired  by  the  upper  gTades  of  producers  and  dis- 
tributors ;  and  partly  from  the  increasing  importance  of  the 
financial  aid  they  can  give  to  the  governing  classes  in  pub- 
lic and  private  affairs;  there  has  been  an  ever-decreasing  re- 


214  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

sistaiu'o  to  the  adojitioii  l)_v  tliciii  of  nsa<>,'cs  (>rij;iiially  forbid- 
den to  all  but  tlio  high  boru.  'i'ho  restraints  in  earlier  times 
enacted  and  re-enacted  by  sumptuary  laws,  have  been  grad- 
ually relaxed;  until  the  imitation  of  superiors  by  inferiors, 
spreading  continually  downwards,  has  ceased  to  be  checked 
by  anything  more  than  sarcasm  and  ridicule, 

§  426.  Entangled  and  confused  with  one  another  as 
Ceremonial  and  Fashion  are,  they  have  thus  different  ori- 
gins and  meanings:  the_ first  being  proper  to  the  reghne  of 
compulsory  co-operation,  and  the  last  being  proper  to  the 
regime  of  voluntary  co-operation.  Clearly  there  is  an  es- 
sential distinction,  and,  indeed,  an  opposition  in  ruiture, 
between  behaviour  required  by  subordination  to  the  great 
and  behaviour  resulting  from  imitation  of  the  great. 

It  is  true  that  the  regiilations  of  conduct  here  distin- 
guished, are  ordinarily  fused  into  one  aggregate  of  social 
regulations.  It  is  true  that  certain  ceremonial  forms  come 
to  be  fulfilled  as  parts  of  the  prevailing  fashion;  and  that 
certain  elements  of  fashion,  as  for  instance  the  order  of 
,  courses  at  a  dinner,  come  to  be  thought  of  as  elements  of 
ceremonial.  And  it  is  true  that  both  are  now  enforced  by 
an  unembodied  opinion  which  appears  to  be  the  same  for 
each.  But,  as  we  have  seen  above,  this  is  an  illusion. 
Though  when,  in  our  day,  a  wealthy  qiud^er,  refusing  to 
wear  the  dress  worn  by  those  of  like  means,  refuses  also  to 
take  off  his  hat  to  a  superior,  we  commonly  regard  these 
nonconformities  as  the  same  in  nature;  Ave  are  shown  that 
they  are  not,  if  we  go  back  to  the  days  when  the  salute  to  the 
su])erior  was  insisted  on  under  ])enalty,  while  the  imitation 
of  the  superior's  dress,  so  far  from  being  insisted  on,  was 
forbidden.  Two  different  authorities  are  defied  by  his 
acts — the  authority  of  class-rtile,  which  once  dictated  such 
obeisances;  and  the  authority  of  social  opinion,  which 
thinks  nonconformities  in  dress  imply  inferior  status. 

So  that,  strange  to  say.  Fashion,  as  distinguished  from 


FASHION.  215 

Ceremony,  is  an  accompaniment  of  the  industrial  type  as 
distinguished  from  the  militant  type.  It  needs  but  to  ob- 
serve that  by  using  silver  forks  at  his  table,  the  trades- 
man in  so  far  asserts  his  equality  with  the  squire;  or  still 
better  to  observe  how  the  servant-maid  out  for  her  holiday 
competes  with  her  mistress  in  displaying  the  last  style  of 
bonnet;  to  see  how  the  regulations  of  condiict  grouped 
under  the  name  Fashion,  imply  that  increasing  liberty 
which  goes  along  with  the  substitution  of  peaceful  activities 
for  warlike  activities. 

As  now  existing,  Fashion  is  a  form  of  social  regulation 
analogous  to  constitutional  government  as  a  form  of  politi- 
cal regulation:  displaying,  as  it  does,  a  compromise  between 
governmental  coercion  and  individual  freedom.  Just  as, 
along  with  the  transition  from  compulsory  co-operation  to 
voluntary  co-operation  in  public  action,  there  has  been  a 
growth  of  the  representative  agency  sei'ving  to  exjiress  the 
average  volition ;  so  has  there  been  a  growth  of  this  indefi- 
nite aggregate  of  wealthy  and  cultured  people,  whose  coh- 
sensus  of  habits  rules  tlie  private  life  of  society  at  large. 
And  it  is  observable  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  that  this 
ever-changing  compromise  between  restraint  and  freedom, 
tends  towards  increase  of  freedom.  For  while,  on  the  aver- 
age, governmental  control  of  individual  action  decreases, 
there  is  a  decrease  in  the  rigidity  of  Fashion;  as  is  shown  by 
the  gTcater  latitude  of  ]u-ivate  judgment  exercised  within 
certain  vaguely  marked  limits. 

Imitative,  then,  from  the  beginning,  first  of  a  superior's 
defects,  and  then,  little  by  little,  of  other  traits  peculiar  to 
him.  Fashion  has  ever  tended  towards  equalization.  Serv- 
ing to  obscure,  and  eventually  to  obliterate,  the  marks  of 
class-distinction,  it  has  favoured  the  gi'owth  of  individual- 
ity; and  by  so  doing  has  aided  in  weakening  Ceremonial, 
which  implies  subordination  of  the  individual. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

CEREMONIAL    RETROSPECT    AND    PROSPECT. 

§  427.  We  find,  then,  that  rules  of  behaviour  are  not 
results  of  conventions  at  one  time  or  other  deliberately 
made,  as  people  tacitly  assume.  Contrariwise,  they  are 
natural  products  of  social  life  which  have  gTadnally  evolvech 
Apart  from  ch'tailcd  proofs  of  this,  we  find  a  general  proof 
in  their  conformity  to  tlie  laws  of  Evolution  at  large. 

In  ])rimitive  headless  groujjs  of  men,  such  customs  as 
regulate  conduct  form  but  a  small  aggregate.  xV  few  natu- 
rally prompted  actions  on  meeting  strangers;  in  certain 
cases  bodily  mutilations;  and  in  some  int(n'dicts  on  foods 
monopolized  by  adult  men;  constitute  a  brief  code.  But 
with  consolidation  into  compoun<l,  doubly  compound,  and 
trebly  compound  societies,  there  arise  great  accumulations 
of  ceremonial  arrangements  regulating  all  the  actions  of 
life — there  is  increase  in  the  mass  of  observances. 

Originally  simple,  these  observances  become  progres- 
sively complex.  From  the  same  root  grow  uj)  various  kinds 
of  obeisances.  Primitive  descriptive  names  develop  into 
numerous  graduated  titles.  From  aboriginal  salutes  come, 
in  course  of  time,  complimentary  forms  of  address  adjusted 
to  persons  and  occasions.  "Weapons  taken  in  war  give  origin 
to  symbols  of  authority,  assuming,  little  by  little,  great 
diversities  in  their  shapes.  AVhile  certain  trophies,  differ- 
entiating into  badges,  dresses  and  decorations,  eventually  in 

each  of  these  divisions  present  multitudinous  varieties,  no 

216 


CEREMONIAL  RETROSPECT  AND   PROSPECT.        217 

longer  bearing  any  resemblance  to  their  originals.  And 
besides  the  increasing  heterogeneity  which  in  each  society 
arises  among  prodncts  having  a  common  origin,  there  is 
the  further  heterogeneity  which  arises  between  this  aggre- 
gate of  products  in  one  society  and  the  allied  aggregates 
in  other  societies. 

Simnltanconsly  there  is  progress  in  definiteness;  end- 
ing, as  in  the  East,  in  fixed  forms  prescribed  in  all  their  de- 
tails, which  must  not  under  penalty  be  departed  from.  And 
in  sundry  places  the  vast  assemblages  of  complex  and  defi- 
nite ceremonies  thus  elaborated,  are  consolidated  into  coher- 
ent codes  set  forth  in  books. 

The  advance  in  integration,  in  heterogeneity,  in  defi- 
niteness, and  in  coherence,  is  thus  fully  exemplified. 

§  428.  AYlien  we  observe  the  original  unity  exhibited 
by  ceremony  as  it  exists  in  primitive  hordes,  in  contrast 
with  the  diversity  which  ceremony,  under  its  forms  of 
political,  religious,  and  social,  assumes  in  developed  socie- 
ties; we  recognize  another  aspect  of  this  transformation 
undergone  by  all  products  of  evolution. 

The  common  origin  of  propitiatory  forms  which  eventu- 
ally appear  unallicd,  was  in  the  last  volume  indicated  by 
the  numerous  parallelisms  we  found  between  religious  cere- 
monies and  ceremonies  performed  in  honouring  the  dead; 
and  the  foregoing  cliapters  have  shown  that  still  more  re- 
markable are  the  parallelisms  between  ceremonies  of  these 
kinds  and  those  performed  in  honouring  the  living.  We 
have  seen  that  as  a  sequence  of  trophy-taking,  parts  of  the 
body  are  surrendered  to  rulers,  offered  at  graves,  deposited 
in  temples,  and  occasionally  presented  to  equals;  and  we 
have  seen  that  mutilations  hence  originating,  become  marks 
of  submission  to  kings,  to  deities,  to  dead  relatives,  and. in 
some  cases  to  living  friends.  Beginning  with  presents, 
primarily  of  food,  made  to  strangers  by  savages  to  secure 
goodwill,  we  pass  to  the  presents,  also  primarily  of  food. 


218       .  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

made  to  cliicfs;  and,  answering-  to  these,  wc  find  tlie  offer- 
ings, primarily  of  food,  made  to  ghosts  and  to  gods,  de- 
veloping among  ancest>or-worshi])ping  peoples  into  sacri- 
fices showing  parallel  elaborations;  as  in  China,  wdierc 
feasts  of  manv  dishes  are  placed  alike  before  the  tablets  in- 
scribed to  ancestors,  apotheosized  men,  and  great  deities, 
and  where  it  is  a  saying  that  "  whatever  is  good  for  food  is 
good  for  sacrifice."  Visits  are  paid  to  graves  ont  of  respect 
to  the  spirits  of  the  departed,  to  temples  in  worship  of  the 
deities  snpposed  to  be  present  in  them,  to  the  conrts  of 
rulers  in  evidence  of  loyalty,  and  to  private  persons  to  show 
consideration.  Obeisances,  originally  implying  subjuga- 
tion, are  made  before  monarchs  and  superiors,  are  similarly 
made  before  deities,  are  sundry  of  them  rejieated  in  honour 
of  the  dead,  and  eventually  become  observances  between 
equals.  Expressing  now  the  humility  of  the  speaker  and 
now  the  greatness  of  the  one  spoken  to,  forms  of  address, 
alike  in  nature,  arc  used  to  the  visible  and  the  invisible 
ruler,  and,  descending  to  those  of  less  power,  are  at  length 
used  to  ordinary  persons;  while  titles  ascribing  fatherhood 
and  supremacy,  applied  at  fiist  to  kings,  gods,  and  deceased 
]>ersons,  become  in  t'uno  names  of  honour  used  to  undistin- 
guished persons.  Symbols  of  authority  V\ko  those  carried 
by  .monarchs,  occur  in  the  i'('i)i-('seutati(>us  of  deities;  in 
some  cases  the  celestial  and  the  terrestrial  potentates  have 
like  costumes  and  a])])en(lages;  and  sundry  of  the  dresses 
and  l)adges  once  marking  superiority  of  position,  become 
ceremonial  dresses  worn,  especially  ou  festive  occasions, 
by  persons  of  inferior  ranks.  Other  reiiiai-kable  parallel- 
isms exist.  One  we  see  in  tlie  anointing,  which,  perfonned 
on  kings  and  on  the  images  of  gods,  exteuded  in  Egypt  to 
dead  persons  and  to  guests.  Tn  Egy})t,  too,  birthday-cere- 
monials were  at  once  social,  political,  and  religions:  besides 
celebrations  of  private  birthdays  and  of  the  birthdays  of 
king's  and  c]ueens,  there  were  celebrations  of  the  birthdayt» 
of  gods.     Xor  must  we  omit  the  sacredness  of  names.     In 


CEREMONIAL  RETROSPECT  AND   PROSPECT.         219 

many  countries  it  is,  or  lias  been,  forbidden  to  ntter  the 
name  of  the  gcid ;  the  name  of  the  king  is  in  other  places 
similarly  interdicted;  elsewhere  it  is  an  offence  to  refer  by 
name  to  a  dead  person;  and  among  various  savages  the 
name  of  the  living  person  may  "not  be  taken  in  vain.  The 
feeling  that  the  presence  of  one  who  is  to  be  worshipped  or 
honoured,  is  a  l)ar  to  the  use  of  violence,  also  has  its  parallel 
sequences.  ^Not  only  is  the  temple  of  the  god  a  sanctuary, 
but  in  sundry  places  the  burial-place  of  the  chief  is  a  sanc- 
tuary, and  in  other  places  the  presence  of  the  monarch, 
as  in  Abyssinia  where  ''  it  is  death  to  strike,  or  lift  the  hand 
to  strike,  before  the  king;  "  and  then  among  European 
peoples,  the  interdict  on  fighting  in  presence  of  a  lady, 
shows  how  this  element  in  ceremonial  rule  extends  into 
general  intercourse.  Finally  let  me  add  a  fuller  statement 
of  a  curious  example  before  referred  to — the  use  of  incense 
in  worship  of  a  deity,  as  a  political  honour,  and  as  a  social 
observance.  In  Egypt  there  was  incense-offering  before 
both  gods  and  kings,  as  also  among  the  Hebrews:  instance 
the  passage  from  the  Song  of  Solomon  (iii.,  6-7) — "  Who  is 
this  that  Cometh  out  of  the  wilderness  like  pillars  of  smoke, 
perfumed  with  myrrh  and  frankincense.  .  .  Behold  his 
bed  [litter],  which  is  Solomon's."  Clavigero  tells  us  that 
"  incense-offering  among  the  Mexicans,  and  other  nations  of 
Anahuac,  was  not  only  an  act  of  religion  towards  their  gods, 
but  also  a  piece  of  civil  courtesy  to  lords  and  ambassadors." 
During  mediaival  days  in  Europe,  incense  was  burnt  in 
compliment  to  rank:  nobles  on  entering  churches  severally 
expected  so  many  swings  of  the  censer  in  front  of  them, 
according  to  their  grades. 

"While,  then,  we  are  shown  by  numerous  sets  of  paral- 
lelisms the  common  origin  of  observances  that  are  now 
distinguished  as  political,  religious,  and  social — while  we 
thus  find  verified  in  detail  the  hypothesis  that  ceremonial 
government  precedes  in  time  the  other  forms  of  govern- 
ment, into  all  of  which  it  enters;  we  arc  shown  how,  in  con- 


220  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

formity  with  tlic  general  laws  of  Evolution,  it  differentiates 
into  three  great  orders  at  the  same  tinu^  that  each  of  these 
orders  differentiates  within  itself. 

§  420.  From  the  beaten  dog  which,  crawling  on  its 
bellj  licks  its  master's  hand,  we  trace  up  the  general  truth 
that  ceremonial  forms  are  naturally  initiated  by  the  relation 
of  conqueror  and  conquered,  and  the  consecjuent  truth  that 
they  develop  along  with  the  militant  type  of  society.  While 
re-enunciated,  this  last  truth  may  be  conveniently  presented 
under  a  different  aspect.  Let  us  note  how  the  connexion  be- 
tween ceremonial  and  militancy,  is  shown  at  once  in  its  rig- 
our, in  its  definiteness,  in  its  extent,  and  in  its  elaborateness. 

"  In  Fiji,  if  a  chief  sees  any  of  his  subjects  not  stooping- 
low  enough  in  his  presence,  he  will  kill  him  on  the  spot;  " 
while  "  a  vast  number  of  fingers,  missing  from  the  hands  of 
men  and  w^omen,  have  gone  as  the  fine  for  disrespectful  or 
awkward  conduct."  And  then  of  these  same  sanguinary 
and  ferociously-governed  people,  Williams  tells  us  that 
"  not  a  member  of  a  chief's  body,  or  the  commonest  acts  of 
his  life,  are  mentioned  in  ordinary  phraseology,  but  all  are 
hyperbolized."  Africa  furnishes  a  kindred  instance  of  this 
connexion  between  ceremonial  rigour  and  the  rigour  of 
despotic  power  accompanying  excessive  militancy.  In  the 
kingdom  of  Uganda,  where,  directed  by  the  king  to  try  a 
rifle  presented  to  him  by  Speke,  a  page  went  to  the  door 
and  shot  the  first  man  he  saw  in  the  distance,  and  where,  as 
Stanley  tells  us,  under  the  last  king,  Suna,  five  days  were 
occupied  in  cutting  up  thirty  thousand  prisoners  who  had 
surrendered;  we  find  that  "an  officer  observed  to  salute 
informally  is  ordered  for  execution,"  while  another  who, 
"  perhaps,  exposes  an  inch  of  naked  leg  whilst  squatting,  or 
has  his  mhngutxod  contrary  to  regulations,"  "  is  condemned 
to  the  same  fate."  And  then  in  Asia  a  parallel  connexion 
is  shown  us  by  the  more  civilized  Siamese,  whose  adult  males 
are  all  soldiers,  and  over  whom  rules  omnipotently  a  sacred 


CEREMONIAL  RETROSPECT  AND   PROSPECT.         221 

king,  whose  "  palace  must  not  be  passed  without  marks  of 
reverence  "  duly  prescribed,  and  "  severe  punishments  fol- 
lo\y  any  inattention  to  these  requirements,"  and  where,  in 
social  intercourse,  "  mistakes  in  these  kinds  of  duties  [obei- 
sances] may  be  punished  with  the  Mfo7i  by  him  against 
whom  they  have  been  committed." 

Along  with  this  rigour  of  ceremonial  rule  we  find  great 
definiteness.  In  Fiji  there  are  "  various  forms  of  saluta- 
tion, according  to  the  rank  of  the  parties;  and  great  attention 
is  paid  to  insure  that  the  salutation  shall  have  the  proper 
form :  "  such  precision  naturally  arising  where  loss  of  life  or 
fingers  follows  breach  of  observance.  A  kindred  precision 
is  similarly  caused  in  the  tyrannically-governed  African* 
kingdoms,  such  as  Loango,  where  a  king  killed  his  own  son, 
and  had  him  quartered,  because  the  son  happened  to  see 
his  father  drink;  or  such  as  Ashantee,  where  there  is  much 
"  punctilious  courtesy*,  and  a  laboured  and  ceremonious 
formality."  iVnd  this  definiteness  characterizes  observ- 
ances under  the  despotisms  of  the  remote  East.  Of  the 
Siamese  La  Loubere  says — "  In  the  same  ceremonies  they 
always  say  almost  the  same  things.  The  king  of  Siam  him- 
self has  his  words  almost  told  [  confees']  in  his  audiences  of 
ceremon3^"  So,  too,  iu'Cliina,  in  the  imperial  hall  of  audi- 
ence "stones  are  inlaid  with  plates  of  brass,  on  which  are  en- 
graved in  Chinese  characters  the  quality  of  the  persons  who 
are  to  stand  or  kneel  upon  them;  "  and  as  Hue  says,  "  it  is 
easier  to  be  polite  in  China  than  elsewhere,  as  politeness  is 
subject  to  more  fixed  regulations."  Japan,  also,  shows  us 
this  precise  adjustment  of  the  observance  to  the  occasion: — 
"  The  marks  of  respect  to  superiors  .  .  .  are  graduated 
from  a  trifling  acknowledgment  to  the  most  absolute  pros- 
tration." "  This  state  of  things  is  supported  by  law  as  well 
as  custom,  and  more  particularly  by  the  permission  given  to 
a  two-sworded  man,  in  case  of  him  feeling  himself  insulted, 
to  take  the  law  into  his  own  hands."  Nor  does  Europe  in  its 
most  militant  coimtry,  autocratically  ruled,  fail  to  yield  an 


222  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ilhistration.  Custine  savs  of  Russia  that,  at  tlio  marria^-o 
of  the  (irand  Duchess  ]\raria  with  the  Duke  of  Leuchteu- 
berg  (1830)  the  Eniporor  Nicholas  "  was  continually  leav- 
ing his  prayers,  and  slipi)in<>;  from  one  side  to  the  other,  in 
order  to  remedy  the  omissions  of  etiquette  among  his  chil- 
dren, or  the  clergy,  .  .  .  All  the  gi-eat  functionaries  of  the 
Court  seemed  to  be  governed  by  his  minute  but  supreme 
directions." 

In  respect  of  the  range  and  elaborateness  of  ceremonial 
rule,  assimilating  the  control  of  civil  life  to  the  control  of 
military  life,  Oriental  despotisms  yield  equally  striking  ex- 
amples. La  Loubere  says: — "  If  there  are  several  Siamese 
together,  and  another  joins  them,  it  often  happens  that  the 
postures  of  all  change.  They  know  before  whom  and  to 
what  extent  they  should  bend  or  remain  erect  or  seated; 
whether  they  should  join  their  hands  or  not  and  hold  tliem 
low  or  high;  "whether  being  seated  they  may  advance  one 
foot  or  both,  or  should  keep  both  hidden."  p]ven  the  mon- 
arch is  under  kindred  restraints.  "  The  Phra  raxa  mo7i-^ 
thierdban  [apparently,  sacred  book]  lays  down  the  la\^3 
which  the  Sovereign  is  bound  to  obey,  ])rescribes  the  hours 
for  rising  and  for  bathing,  the  manner  of  otlering  and  the 
alms  to  be  offered,  to  the  bonzes,  the  hours  of  audience  for 
nobles  and  for  princes,  the  time  to  be  devoted  to  public  af- 
fairs and  to  study,  tlie  hours  for  repasts,  and  when  audiences 
shall  be  allowed  to  the  Queen  and  tlie  ladies  of  the  palace." 
Again,  in  the  account  of  his  embassy  to  Ava,  Syme  writes: 
— "  The  subordination  of  rank  is  maintained  and  marked 
by  the  Birmans  with  the  most  tenacious  strictness;  and  \uA, 
only  houses,  but  even  domestic  implements,  such  as  the  bet- 
tie  box,  water  flagon,  drinking  cup,  and  horse  furniture, 
all  express  and  manifest,  by  shape  and  quality,  tlie  precise 
station  of  the  owner."  In  China,  too,  the  Li  ki,  or  Book  of 
Rites,  gives  directions  f(tr  all  actions  of  life;  and  a  passage 
in  Hue  shows  at  once  the  antiquity  of  their  vast,  coherent, 
elaborate  system  of  observances,  and  the  reverence  with 


CEREMONIAL   RETROSPECT   AND   PROSPECT.         223 

which  its  prescriptions  were  regarded: — ''  '  lender  the  first 
dynasties,'  says  a  famous  Chinese  morahst,  '  the  government 
had  perfect  nnity,  the  ceremonies  and  music  embraced  the 
whole  empire.'  "  Once  more,  in  Japan,  especially  in  past 
times,  ceremony  was  elaborated  in  books  so  far  that  every 
transaction,  do^\ai  to  an  execution,  had  its  various  move- 
ments prescribed  with  a  scarcely  credible  minuteness. 

That  these  connexions  are  necessary,  we  cannot  fail  to 
see  on  remembering  how,  with  the  compoundings  and  re- 
compoundings  of  social  groups  effected  by  militancy,  there 
must  go  an  evolution  of  the  forms  of  subordination;  made 
strong  by  the  needs  for  restraint,  made  multitudinous  by  the 
gradations  of  rank,  made  precise  by  continual  performance 
under  penalty. 

§  430.  The  moral  traits  which  accompany  respectively 
the  development  of  ceremonial  rule  and  the  decay  of  cere- 
monial rule,  may  with  advantage  be  named  while  not- 
ing how  observances  weaken  as  fast  as  industrialism 
sfrengthens. 

We  have  seen  that  ceremony  originates  from  y^-a;'.'  on 
the  one  side  supremacy  of  a  victor  or  master;  on  the  other 
side  dread  of  death  or  punishment  felt  by  the  vanquished  or 
the  slave.  And  under  the  reyinte  of  compulsory  co-opera- 
tion thus  initiated,  fear  develops  and  maintains  in  strength 
all  forms  of  propitiation.  But  with  the  rise  of  a  social  type 
based  on  voluntary  co-operation,  fear  decreases.  'The  sub- 
ordinate ruler  or  officer  is  no  longer  wholly  at  the  mercy  of 
his  superior;  the  trader,  not  liable  to  be  robbed  or  tortured 
by  the  noble,  has  a  remedy  against  him  for  non-payment; 
the  labourer  in  receipt  of  wages,  cannot  be  beaten  like  the 
slave.  In  proportion  as  the  system  of  exchanging  services 
under  contract  spreads,  and  the  rendering  of  services  under 
compulsion  diminishes,  men  dread  one  another  less;  and, 
consequently,  become  less  scrupulous  in  fulfilliidg  propitia- 
tory forms. 


224  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

War  of  necessity  cultivates  deception :  ambiisli,  ina- 
noeiivring,  feints,  and  the  like,  involve  acted  lies;  and  skil- 
ful lying"  by  actions  is  regarded  as  a  trait  of  military  genius. 
The  slavery  which  successful  war  establishes,  implies  daily 
practice  in  duplicity.  Against  the  anger  of  his  cruel  master 
a  successful  falsehood  is  the  slave's  defence.  Under  tyrants 
unscrupulous  in  their  exactions,  skilful  lying  is  a  means  of 
salvation,  and  is  a  source  of  pride.  And  all  the  ceremonies 
which  accompany  the  r'eghne  of  com})ulsorv  co-operation 
are  pervaded  by  insincerity:  the  fulsome  laudations  are  not 
believed  by  the  uttercr;  he  feels  none  of  that  love  for  his 
superior  whicdi  he  professes;  nor  is  he  anxious  for  his  wel- 
fare as  his  words  assert.  But  in  proportion  as  compul- 
sory co-operation  is  replaced  by  voluntary  co-operation,  the 
temptations  to  deceive  that  penalties  may  be  escaped,  be- 
come less  strong  and  perpetual;  and  simultaneously,  truth- 
fulness is  fostered,  since  voluntary  co-operation  can  increase 
only  as  fast  as  mutual  trust  increases.  Though  throughout 
the  activities  of  industry  there  yet  survives  nnudi  of  the 
militant  untruthfulness;  yet,  on  remembering  that  only  by 
daily  fulfilment  of  contracts  can  these  activities  go  on,  we 
see  that  in  the  main  the  things  promised  are  performed. 
And  along  with  the  spreading  truthfulness  thus  implied, 
there  goes  on  an  increasing  dislike  of  the  more  extreme  un- 
truthfulness implied  in  the  forms  of  propitiation.  Neither 
in  word  nor  in  act  do  the  professed  feelings  so  greatly  ex- 
ceed the  real  feelings. 

It  scarciely  needs  saying  that  as  social  co-operation  be- 
comes less  coercive  and  more  voluntary,  independence  in- 
creases; for  the  two  statements  are  different  aspects  of 
the  same.  Forced  service  implies  dependence;  while  ser- 
vice rendered  under  agreement  implies  independence. 
Naturally,  the  different  moral  attitudes  involved,  express- 
ing themselves  in  different  political  types,  as  relatively  des- 
potic and  relatively  free,  express  themselves  also  in  the  ac- 
companying kinds  of  ceremonial  rule  that  arc  tolerated  or 


CEREMONIAL   RETROSPECT  AND   PROSPECT         225 

liked.  In  the  one  case,  badges  of  subjection  are  tbouglit 
honourable  and  pleasure  is  taken  in  acts  of  homage ;  in  the 
other  case,  liveries  come  to  be  hated  and  there  is  reluctance 
to  use  reverential  forms  approaching  the  obsequious.  The 
love  of  independence  joins  the  love  of  truthfulness  in  gener- 
ating a  repugnance  to  obeisances  and  phrases  which  express 
subordination  where  none  is  internally  acknowledged. 

The  discipline  of  war,  being  a  discipline  in  destruction 
of  life,  is  a  discipline  in  callousness.  Whatever  sympathies 
exist  are  seared ;  and  any  that  tend  to  grow  up  are  checked. 
This  unsympathetic  attitude  which  war  necessitates,  is  main- 
tained by  the  coercive  social  co-operation  which  it  initiates 
and  evolves.  The  subordination  of  slave  by  master,  main- 
tained by  use  of  whatever  force  is  needful  to  secure  services 
however  unwilling,  implies  repression  of  fellow-feeling. 
This  repression  of  fellow-feeling  is  also  implied  by  insisting 
on  forms  of  homage.  To  delight  in  receiving  cringing  obei- 
sances shows  lack  of  sympathy  with  another's  dignity;  and 
with  the  development  of  a  freer  social  type  and  accompany- 
ing increase  of  sympathy,  there  grows  up  on  the  part  of  su- 
periors a  dislike  to  these  extreme  manifestations  of  subjec- 
tion coming  from  inferiors.  "  Put  your  bonnet  to  its  right 
use,"  says  Hamlet  to  Osric,  standing  bareheaded:  showing 
us  that  in  Shakespeare's  day,  there  had  arisen  the  fellow- 
feeling  which  produced  displeasure  on  seeing  another  hum- 
ble himself  too  much.  And  this  feeling,  increasing  as  the 
industrial  type  evolves,  makes  more  repugnant  all  cere- 
monial forms  w^hich  overtly  express  subordination. 

Once  more,  originating  in  societies  which  have  the  glory 
of  victory  in  war  as  a  dominant  sentiment,  developed  cere- 
mony belongs  to  a  social  state  in  which  love  of  applause  is 
the  ruling  social  motive.  But  as  fast  as  industrialism  re- 
places militancy,  the  sway  of  this  ego-altruistic  sentiment 
becomes  qualified  by  the  growing  altruistic  sentiment;  and 
W'ith  an  increasing  respect  for  others'  claims,  there  goes  a 
decreasing  eagerness  for  distinctions  which  by  implication 


226  CEllEMONIAI.   INSTITUTIONS. 

subordinate  tlioin.  Sounding  titles,  adulatory  forms  of 
address,  bumble  obeisances,  gorgeous  costumes,  badges, 
privileges  of  precedence,  and  the  like,  severally  minister  to 
the  desire  to  be  regarded  with  actual  or  simulated  admira- 
tion. But  as  fast  as  the  wish  to  be  exalted  at  the  cost  of 
humiliation  to  others,  is  checked  bv  sympathy,  the  appetite 
for  marks  of  honour,  becoming"  less  keen,  is  satistied  with, 
'*'■*  ^  1  and  even  prefers,  more  subdued  indications  of  respect. 
*"''    *  So  that  in  various  ways  the  moral  character  natural  to 

the  militant  ty])e  of  society,  fosters  ceremony;  while  the 
moral  character  natural  to  the  industrial  type  is  unfavour- 
able to  it. 

§  431.  Before  stating  definitely  the  conclusions,  ah'eady 
foreshadowed,  that  are  to  be  drawn  rosjiecting  the  future 
of  ceremony,  we  have  to  note  that  its  restraints  not  only 
f<trm  a  })art  of  the  coercive  regime  proper  to  those  lower  so- 
cial types  characterized  by  ]iredomiuant  militancy,  but  also 
that  they  form  part  of  a  discipline  by  which  men  are  adapt- 
ed to  a  higher  social  life. 

While  the  antagonistic  or  anti-social  emotions  in  men, 
have  that  predominance  which  is  inevitable  while  war  is 
habitual,  tliere  must  be  tendencies,  great  and  frequent,  to 
words  and  acts  generating  enmity  and  endangering  social 
coherence.  Hence  the  need  for  prescribed  forms  of  behav- 
iour which,  duly  observed,  diminish  the  risk  of  quarrels. 
Hence  the  need  for  a  ceremonial  rule  rigorous  in  proportion 
as  the  nature  is  selfish  and  explosive. 

^ot  d priori  only,  hut  d posteriori,  it  is  inferable  ihat 
established  observances  have  the  function  of  educating,  in 
respect  of  its  minor  actions,  the  anti-social  nature  into  a 
form  fitted  for  social  life.  Of  the  Ja])anese,  living  for  these 
many  centuries  under  an  unmitigated  des]iotism,  castes  se- 
verely restricted,  sanguinary  laws,  and  a  ceremonial  system 
rigorous  and  elaborate,  there  has  arisen  a  character  which, 
while  described  by  ^\r.  Rundell  as  "haughty,  vindictive, 


CEREMONIAL   RETROSPECT  AND   PROSPECT.         227 

and  licentious,"  jet  prompts  a  behaviour  admirable  in  its 
suavity.  Mr.  Cornwallis  asserts  that  amiability  and  an  un- 
rutHed  temper  are  the  universal  properties  of  the  women 
in  Japan ;  and  by  Mr.  Drummond  they  are  credited  with  a 
natural  grace  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe.  Among 
the  men,  too,  the  sentiment  of  honour,  based  upon  that  re- 
gard foi*  reputation  to  which  ceremonial  observance  largely 
appeals,  carries  them  to  great  extremes  of  consideration. 
Another  verifying  fact  is  furnished  by  another  despotical- 
ly-governed and  highly  ceremonious  society,  Russia.  Cus- 
tine  says — "  If  fear  renders  the  men  serious,  it  also  renders 
them  extremely  polite.  I  have  never  elsewhere  seen  so 
many  men  of  all  classes  treating  each  other  with  such  re- 
spect." Kindred,  if  less  pronounced,  examples  of  this  con- 
nexion are  to  be  found  in  Western  countries.  The  Italian, 
long  subject  to  tyrannical  rule,  and  in  danger  of  his  life  if 
he  excites  the  vengeful  feelings  of  a  fellow-citizen,  is  distin- 
guished by  his  conciliatory  manner.  In  Spain,  where  gov- 
ernmental dictation  is  unlimited,  where  women  are  harshly 
treated,  and  where  "  no  labourer  ever  walks  outside  his  door 
without  his  knife,"  there  is  extreme  politeness.  Contrari- 
wise our  own  people,  loi:\g  living  under  institutions  which 
guard  them  against  serious  consequences  from  giving 
offence,  greatly  lack  suavity;  and  show  a  comparative  in- 
attention to  minor  civilities. 

Both  deductively  and  inductively,  then,  we  see  that 
ceremonial  government  is  one  of  the  agencies  by  which  so-' 
cial  co-operation  is  facilitated  among  those  whose  natures 
are  in  large  measure  anti-social. 

§  432.  And  this  brings  us  to  the  general  truth  that 
within  each  embodied  set  of  restraining  agencies — the  cere- 
monial as  wcll^as  the  political  and  ecclesinstieal  which  grow 
out  of  it — there  gradually  evolves,  a  special  kind  of  disem- 
bodied control,  which  eventually  becomes  independent. 

Political  government,  having  for  its  original  end  subor- 


228  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

dination;  and  inflicting-  penalties  on  men  who  injure  others 
not  because  of  the  intrinsic  badness  of  their  acts  but  because 
their  acts  break  the  ruler's  commands;  has  ever  been  ha- 
bituating men  to  obey  regulations  conducive  to  social  order; 
until  there  has  grown  up  a  consciousness  that  these  regu- 
lations have  not  simply  an  extrinsic  authority  derived  from 
a  ruler's  will,  but  have  an  intrinsic  authority  derived  from 
their  utility.  The  once  arbitrary,  iitful,  and  often  irra- 
tional, dictates  of  a  king,  grow  into  an  established  system  of 
laws,  which  fornnilate  the  needful  limitations  to  men's  ac- 
tions" arising  from  one  another's  claims.  And  these  limita- 
tions men  more  and  more  recognize  and  conform  to,  not  only 
without  thinking  of  the  monarch's  injunctions,  but  without 
thinking  of  the  injunctions  set  forth  in  Acts  of  Parlia- 
ment. Simultaneously,  out  of  the  supposed  wishes 
of  the  ancestral  ghost,  which  now  and  again  developing 
into  the  traditional  commands  of  some  expanded  ghost  of  a 
great  man,  become  divine  injunctions,  arises  the  set  of  re- 
quirements classed  as  religious.  Within  these,  at  fii'st  al- 
most exclusively  concerning  acts  expressing  submission  to 
the  celestial  king,  there  evolve  the  rules  we  -distinguish  as 
moral.  As  society  advances,  these  moral  rules  become  of  a 
kind  formulating  the  conduct  requisite  for  ])ersonal,  domes- 
tic, and  social  wcllbeing.  For  a  long  time  inq:)erfectly  dif- 
ferentiated from  the  essential  political  rules,  and  to  the  last 
enforcing  their  authority,  these  moral  rules,  originally  re- 
garded as  sacred  only  because  of  their  sup])ose(l  divine  ori- 
gin, eventually  ac(iuire  a  sacredness  derived  from  their 
observed  utility  in  controlling  certain  ])arts  of  human  con- 
duct— ])arts  not  controlled,  or  little  controlled,  by  civil  law. 
Ideas  of  moral  duty  develop  and  consolidate  into  a  moral 
code,  which  eventually  becomes  independent  of  its  theologi- 
cal root.  In  the  meantime,  from  within  that  part  (jf 
ceremonial  rule  wlii(di  has  evolved  into  a  system  of  regula- 
tions for  social  intercourse,  there  grows  a  third  class  of  re- 
straints;  and  these,  in  like  manner,  become  at  length  inde- 


CEREMONIAL  RETROSPECT  AND   PROSPECT.-     229* 

pendent.  From  observances  which,  in  their  primitive 
forms,  express  partly  subordination  to  a  superior  and  partly 
attachment  to  him,  and  which,  spreading  downwards,  be- 
comc  general  forms  of  behaviour,  there  finally  come  observ- 
ances expressing  a  projier  regard  for  the  individualities  of 
other  persons,  and  a  true  sympathy  in  their  welfare.  Cere- 
monies which  originally  have  no  other  end  than  to  propiti- 
ate a  dominant  person,  pass,  some  of  them,  into  rules  of  po- 
liteness; and  these  gather  an  authority  distinct  from  that 
which  they  originally  had.  Apt  evidence  is  furnished  by 
the  "  Ritual  Remendu-ancer  "  of  the  Chinese,  which  gives 
directions  for  all  the  actions  of  life.  Its  regulations  "  are  in- 
terspersed with  truly  excellent  observations  regarding  mu- 
tual forbearance  and  kindness  in  society,  which  is  regarded 
as  the  true  principle  of  eticpiette."  The  higher  the  social 
evolution,  the  more  does  this  inner  eleuient  of  ceremonial 
rule  grow,  while  the  outer  formal  element  dwindles.  As 
fast  as  the  principles  of  natural  p'oliteness,  seen  to  originate 
in  sympathy,  distinguish  themselves  from  the  code  of  cere- 
monial within  which  they  originate,  they  replace  its  author- 
ity by  a  higher  authority,  and  go  on  dropping  its  non-essen- 
tials while  developing  further  its  essentials. 

So  that  as  law  differentiates  from  personal  commands, 
and  as  morality  differentiates  from  religious  injunctions,  so 
politeness  differentiates  from  ceremonial  observance.  To 
which  I  may  add,  so  does  rational  usage  differentiate  from 
fashion. 

§  433.  Thus  guided  by  retrospect  w^e  cannot  doubt 
about  the  prospect.  With  further  development  of  the  so- 
cial type  based  on  voluntary  co-operatiofl,  will  come  a  still 
greater  disuse  of  ol)eisances,  of  complimentary  forms  of  ad- 
dress, of  titles,  of  badges,  &c.,  &c.  The  feelings  alike  of 
those  by  whom,  and  those  to  whom,  acts  expressing  subor- 
dination are  performed,  will  become  more  and  more  averse 
to  them. 


230*  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Of  course  the  change  will  bo,  and  should  be,  gradual. 
Just  as,  if  political  freedom  is  gained  faster  than  men  be- 
come adeijuately  self-controlled,  there  results  social  dis- 
order— just  as  abolition  of  religious  restraints  while  yet 
moral  restraints  have  not  grown  strong  enough,  entails 
increase  of  misconduct;  so,  if  the  observances  regulating  so- 
cial intercourse  lose  their  sway  faster  than  the  feelings 
which  prompt  true  politeness  develop,  there  inevitably  fol- 
lows more  or  less  rudeness  in  behaviour  ami  consetpient 
liability  to  discord.  It  needs  but  to  name  certain  of  our 
lower  classes,  such  as  colliers  and  brickmakers,  whose  rela- 
tions to  masters  and  others  are  such  as  to  leave  them  scarcely 
at  all  restrained,  to  see  that  considerable  evils  arise  from  a 
premature  decay  of  ceremonial  rul(\ 

The  normal  advance  toward  that  highest  state  in  which 
the  minor  acts  of  men  towards  one  another,  like  their  major 
acts,  are  so  controlled  by  internal  restraints  as  to  make  ex- 
ternal restraints  needless,  implies  increasing  fulfilment  of 
two  conditions.  Both  higher  emotions  and  higher  intelli- 
gence are  required.  There  must  be  a  stronger  fellow  feel- 
ing wdtli  all  around,  and  there  must  be  an  intelligence  devel- 
oped to  the  extent  needful  for  instantly  seeing  how  all  words 
and  acts  will  tell  upon  their  states  of  mind — an  intelligence 
which,  by  each  expression  of  face  and  cadence  of  speech,  is 
informed  what  is  the  passing  state  of  emotion,  and  how 
emotion  has  been  affected  by  actions  just  committed. 


ADDENDA.  231* 


ADDENDA. 


Mutilations.— In  Chap.  III.,  and  in  the  appended  note,  I  have 
assigned  grounds  for  the  conclusion  that  (beyond  some  which  arise 
from  the  simulation  of  battle-wounds)  the  skin-marks  made  on  sav- 
ages, from  the  scars  of  great  g-ashes  down  to  tatoo-lines,  originate  in 
the  wide-spread  prac:tice  of  letting  blood  for  tlie  dead  at  a  funeral : 
naming,  in  all,  there  and  elsewhere,  fourteen  illustrations.  I  add 
here  an  instructive  one  given  by  Be'ckwourth,  "who  for  many  years 
lived  among  "  the  Crows.  Describing  the  ceremonies  at  a  head  chief's 
death,  he  writes : — 

"  Blood  was  streaming  from  every  conceivable  part  of  the  bodies  of  all  who 
were  old  enough  to  coiupreheiid  their  loss.  Hundreds  of  fingers  were  dismem- 
bered ;  hair  torn  from  the  head  lay  in  profusion  about  the  paths  ;  wails  and 
moans  in  every  direction  assailed  the  ear.  .  .  .  Long  Hair  cut  off  a  large  roll 
of  his  hair,  a  thing  he  jvas  never  known  to  do  before.  The  cutting  and  hack- 
ing of  human  flesh  exceeded  all  my  previous  experience ;  lingers  were  dismem- 
bered as  readily  as  twigs,  and  blood  was  poured  out  like  water.  Many  of  the 
warriors  would  cut  two  gashes  nearly  the  entire  length  of  their  arm;  then, 
separating  the  skin  from  the  flesh  at  one  end,  would  grasp  it  in  their  other 
hand  and  rip  it  asunder  to  the  shoulder.  Others  would  carve  various  devices 
upon  their  breasts  and  shoulders,  and  raise  the  skin  in  the  same  manner  to 
make  the  scars  show  to  advantage  after  the  wound  was  healed."-— H.  C.  Yar- 
row's Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Mortuary  Customs  among  the  North  Ameri- 
can Indians^  pp.  90-91. 

Here,  besides  seeing  that  ofTerings  of  blood  are  accompanied  by 
offerings  of  fingers  and  of  hair,  with  which  I  have  associated  them 
(all  of  them  acts  of  propitiation  which  leave  marks  that  become  signs 
of  allegiance  and  subordination),  we  get  clear  evidence  of  the  transi- 
tion to  decorative  marks.  Some  of  the  mourners  "would  carve  vari- 
ous devices  upon  their  breasts  and  shoulders,"  and  raise  the  skin  "to 
make  the  scars  show  to  advantage."  Dr.  Tylor,  who,  describing  my 
method  as  being  that  of  deducing  all  men's  customs  ' '  from  laws  of 
nature,"  alleges  that  my  inferences  are  vitiated  by  it,  contends  that  the 
skin-marks  are  all  re<'ord-marks,  when  not  deliberately  decorative. 
Whether  the  inductive  basis  for  this  conclusion  is  wider  than  that  for 
the  conclusion  drawn  by  me,  and  whether  the  superiority  of  Dr. 
Tylor's  method  is  thereby  shown,  may  be  judged  by  the  reader  who 
refers  to  his  essay. 

Pkesents. — In  §  376,  sundry  facts  were  named  which  pointed  to 
the  conclusion  that  barter  does  not  begin  consciously  as  such,  but  is 
initiated  by  the  exchange  of  presents,  which  usage  more  and  more  re- 
quires to  be  of  equal  values.  My  attention  has  since  been  drawn  to  a 
verifying  instance  in  the  Illdd  ;  where,  in  token  of  friendship,  an  ex- 
change of  arms  is  made  between  Glaucus  and  Diomedes : — 

"  Ilowbeit  Zeus  then  bereaved  (Jlaucus  of  his  wits,  in  that  he  exchanged 
with  Diomedes,  the  son  of  Tydeus,  golden  arms  for  bronze,  a  hundred  oxen's 
worth  for  nine." 

Homer's  obvious  notion  being  that  there  should  be  likeness  of  worth 
in  the  presents  mutually  made;   and  the  implication  being  that  this 


232*  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

requirement  was  commonly  observed.  Of  course,  if  a  projiitiatory 
gift,  at  first  otierod  without  expectation  of  a  return,  came  eventually 
to  be  offered  with  expectation  of  an  equivalent  return,  bargaining  and 
barter  would  inevitably  arise. 

A  clear  illustration  furnislied  by  a  primitive  i)eople  still  extant  oc- 
curs in  the  account  of  tlie  Andamanese  given  by  Mr.  E.  II.  Man  in 
the  Journitl  of  the  Antliropoloyiail  Iiidltate,  vol.  xi,  pp.  385-G.  Say- 
ing of  this  people  that  '"it  is  customary  for  each  family  to  supply 
itself  with  the  chief  necessaries  in  the  shape  of  weapons  and  food," 
j\Ir.  Man  tells  us  that — 

"  Tlioy  set  no  fixed  value  on  their  various  properties,  and  rarely  make  or  pro- 
cure anj-thiug  for  tlie  express  purpose  of  bartering  with  it.  .  .  .  These  trans- 
actions [exchanges]  they  are  pleased  to  consider  as  presentations  ;  but  it  is 
tacitly  understood  that  no  present  is  to  be  accepted  unless  an  etpiivalfnt  is 
rendered,  and,  as  the  opinions  of  donor  and  recipient  are  liable  to  ditl'er  as  to 
the  respective  value  of  the  articles  in  question,  a  quarrel  is  not  unfrcquently 
the  result." 

These  facts,  joined  with  the  facts  given  in  Chapter  iv.,  go  far  to 
prove  that  savages  (wiio  invent  notliing,  but  even  in  the  making  of 
implements  develop  this  or  that  kind  by  unobtrusive  moditications), 
were  led  unawares,  and  not  aforethought,  into  the  ])ractice  of  barter. 

That  in  tlie  course  of  social  evolution,  presents  precede  fixed  sal- 
aries, illustrated  in  §  375  by  tlie  fact,  among  others,  that  in  the  East 
the  attendants  of  a  man  of  power  are  supported  chiefly  by  ])ropitiatory 
gifts  from  those  who  come  to  get  favours  fiom  him,  is  further  illus- 
trated by  the  fact  that  tlie  great  man  himself  similarly  remunerates 
them  if  need  be. 

"Should  he  desire  to  retain  any  of  them  whose  income  does  not  prove  suffi- 
cient, he  himself  makes  presents  to  them^  or  favours  thcin  in  their  business 
by  means  of  his  influence,  but  never  pays  them  wages." — Van  Lennep,  Bible 
Lands  itnd  Customs,  ii.  592. 

Which  last  fact,  joined  with  the  others  before  named  of  like  kind,  im- 
ply that  exchange  of  services  for  ])aynients,  did  not  begin  as  such : 
services  being  at  first  given  from  fear,  or  loyalty,  or  the  desire  for 
protection;  and  any  return  made. for  these  services,  beyond  the  i)ro- 
tection,  not  being  consciously  regarded  as  e(|uiva!ent  payment,  but 
as  a  mark  of  ap])roval  or  good  will.  The  fact  that  the  exclntnge  of 
service  for  fixed  payment  developed  out  of  this  practice,  harmonizes 
with,  and  confirms,  the  conclusion  that  the  exchange  of  commodities 
had  an  analo^^ous  origin. 


PART  y. 


POLITICAL    INSTITUTIONS 


CHAPTER  I. 


PEELIMIXAKY, 


§  434.  Thought  and  feeling  cannot  be  completely  dis- 
sociated. Each  emotion  has  a  more  or  less  distinct  frame- 
work of  ideas;  and  each  group  of  ideas  is  more  or  less  suf- 
fused with  emotion.  There  are,  however,  great  differences 
between  their  degrees  of  combination  under  both  of  these 
aspects.  We  have  some  feelings  which  are  vague  from  lack 
of  intellectual  definition;  and  others  to  which  clear  shapes 
are  given  bj  the  associated  conceptions.  At  one  time  our 
thoughts  are  distorted  by  the  passion  running  through  them ; 
and  at  another  time  it  is  difficult  to  detect  in  them  a  trace  of 
liking  or  disliking.  Manifestly,  too,  in  each  particular  case 
these  components  of  the  mental  state  may  be  varied  in  their 
proportions.  The  ideas  being  the  same,  the  emotion  joined 
with  them  may  be  greater  or  less;  and  it  is  a  familiar  truth 
that  the  correctness  of  the  judgment  formed,  depends,  if  not 
on  the  absence  of  emotion,  still,  on  that  balance  of  emotions 
which  negatives  excess  of  any  one. 

Especially  is  this  so  in  matters  concerning  human  life. 
There  are  two  ways  in  which  men's  actions,  individual  or 
social,  may  be  regarded.  We  may  consider  them  as  groups 
of  phenomena  to  be  analyzed,  and  the  laws  of  their  depen- 
dence ascertained ;  or,  considering  them  as  causing  pleasures 
or  pains,  we  may  associate  with  them  approbation  or  repro- 
bation.    Dealing  with  its  problems  intellectuallv,  we  may 

239 


23"0  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

regard  conduct  as  always  the  result  of  certain  forces;  or, 
dealing  with  its  problems  morally,  and  recognizing  its  ont- 
come  as  in  this  case  good  and  in  that  case  bad,  we  may 
allow  now  admiration  and  now  indignation  to  fill  our  con- 
scionsness.  Obviously,  it  must  make  a  great  difference  in 
our  conclusions  whether,  as  in  the  one  case,  we  study  men's 
doings  as  those  of  alien  creatures,  which  it  merely  concerns 
us  to  understand;  or  whether,  as  in  the  other  case,  we  con- 
template them  as  the  doings  of  creatures  like  ourselves,  with 
whose  lives  our  own  lives  are  bound  up,  and  whose  behaviour 
.  arouses  in  us,  directly  and  sympathetically,  feelings  of  love 
or  hate. 

In  an  ancillary  work,  The  Study  of  Sociology,  I  have  de- 
scribed the  various  i)erversions  produced  in  men's  judgments 
by  their  emotions.  Examj)les  are  given  showing  how  fears 
and  hopes  betray  them  into  false  estimates;  how  impatience 
prompts  unjust  condemnations;  how  in  this  case  antipathy, 
and  in  that  case  sympathy,  distorts  belief.  The  truth  that 
the  bias  of  education  and  the  bias  of  patriotism  severally 
warp  men's  convictions,  is  enforced  l)v  many  illustrations. 
And  it  is  pointed  out  that  the  more  special  forms  of  bias — 
the  class  bias,  the  political  bias,  the  theological  bias — each 
originates  a  predisposition  towards  this  or  that  view  of  public 
affairs. 

Here  let  me  emphasize  the  conclusion  that  in  pursuing 
our  sociological  inquiries,  and  especially  those  on  which  we 
are  now  entering,  we  must,  as  much  as  possible,  exclude 
whatever  emotions  the  facts  are  calculated  to  excite,  and 
attend  solely  to  the  interpretation  of  the  facts.  There  are 
several  groups  of  phenomena  in  contemplating  which  either 
contempt,  or  disgust,  or  indignation,  tends  to  arise  but  must 
be  restrained. 

§  48.5.  Instead  of  passing  over  as  of  no  account,  or  else 
regarding  as  purely  mischievous,  the  superstitions  of  the 
primitive  man,  we  must  incjuire  what  part  they  jHay  in 


PRELIMINARY.  231 

social  evolution;  and  must  be  prepared,  if  need  be,  to  re- 
cognize their  nsefnlness.  Already  we  have  seen  that  the 
belief  which  prompts  the  savage  to  burj  valuables  mth  the 
corpse  and  carry  food  to  the  grave,  has  a  natural  genesis; 
that  the  propitiation  of  plants  and  animals,  and  the  "  worship 
of  stocks  and  stones,"  are  not  gratuitous  absurdities;  and 
that  slaves  are  sacrificed  at  funerals  in  pursuance  of  an  idea 
which  seems  rational  to  uninstructed  intelligence.  Pre- 
sently we  shall  have  to  consider  in  what  way  the  ghost- 
theory  has  operated  politically;  and  if  we  should  find  reason 
to  conclude  that  it  has  been  an  indispensable  aid  to  political . 
progress,  we  must  be  ready  to  accept  the  conclusion. 

Knowledge  of  the  miseries  which  have  for  countless  ages 
been  everywhere  caused  by  the  antagonisms  of  societies,  niust 
not  prevent  us  from  recognizing  the  all-important  part  these 
antagonisms  have  played  in  civilization.  Shudder  as  we 
must  at  the  cannibalism  which  all  over  the  world  in  early 
days  was  a  sequence  of  war — shrink  as  we  may  from  the 
thought  of  tliose  immolations  of  prisoners  which  liave,  tens 
of  thousaTids  of  times,  followed  battles  between  wild  tribes — 
road  as  we  do  with  horror  of  the  pyramids  of  heads  and  the 
whitening  bones  of  slain  peoples  left  by  barbarian  invaders — 
hate,  as  we  ought,  the  militant  spirit  which  is  even  now 
among  ourselves  prompting  base  treacheries  and  brutal  ag- 
gressions; we  must  not  let  our  feelings  blind  us  to  the 
proofs  that  inter-social  conflicts  have  furthered  the  develop- 
ment of  social  structures. 

Moreover,  dislikes  to  governments  of  certain  kinds  must 
not  prevent  us  from  seeing  their  fitnesses  to  their  circum- 
stances. Though,  rejecting  the  common  idea  of  glory,  and 
declining  to  join  soldiers  and  school-boys  in  applying  the 
epithet  "great"  to  conquering  despots,  Ave  detest  despotism — 
though  we  regard  their  sacrifices  of  their  own  peoples  and  of 
alien  peoples  in  pursuit  of  universal  dominion  as  gigantic 
crimes;  we  must  yet  recognize  the  benefits  occasionally 
arising  from  the  consolidations  thev  achieve.     I^Teither  the 


232  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

massacres  of  subjects  which  Ivoman  emptors  directed,  nor 
the  assassinations  of  rehitivcs  common  among  potentates 
in  the  East,  n©r  tlic  impoverishment  of  whole  nations  by  the 
exactions  of  tyrants,  must  so  revoU  ns  as  to  prevent  appre- 
ciation of  the  benetits  which  have,  under  certain  conditions, 
resulted  from  the  unlimited  power  of  the  supreme  man.  Xor 
must  the  remembrances  of  torturing  implements,  and  oub- 
liettes, and  victims  built  into  walls,  shut  out  from  our  minds 
the  evidence  that  abject  submission  of  the  weak  to  the  strong, 
however  unscrupulously  enforced,  has  in  some  times  and 
.  places  been  necessary. 

So,  too,  with  the  associated  ownership  of  man  by  man. 
Absolute  condemnation  of  slavery  must  be  witheld,  even  if 
we  accept  the  tradition  repeated  by  Herodotus,  that  to  build 
the  Great  Pyramid  relays  of  a  hundred  thousand  slaves  toiled 
for  twenty  years;  or  even  if  we  find  it  true  that  of  the  serfs 
compelled  to  work  at  the  building  of  St.  Petersburg,  three 
hundred  thousand  perished.  Though  aware  that  the  un- 
recorded sufferings  of  men  and  women  held  in  bondage  arc 
beyond  imagination,  we  must  be  willing  to  receive  such 
evidence  as  there  may  be  that  benefits  have  resulted. 

In  brief,  trustworthy  interpretations  of  social  arrangements 
imply  an  almost  passionless  consciousness.  Though  feeling 
cannot  and  ought  not  to  be  excluded  from  the  mind  when 
otherwise  contemplating  them,  yet  it  ought  to  be  excluded 
when  contemplating  them  as  natural  phenomena  to  be  under- 
stood in  their  causes  and  effects. 

§  436.  Maintenance  of  this  mental  attitude  will  be  fur- 
thered by  keeping  before  ourselves  the  truth  that  in  human 
actions  the  absolutely  bad  may  be  relatively  good,  and  the 
absolutely  good  may  be  relatively  bad. 

Though  it  has  become  ;i  common-] )lace  tlint  the  institutious 
under  which  one  race  prospers  will  not  answer  for  another, 
the  recognition  of  this  truth  is  by  no  means  adequate.  IMen 
who  have  lost  faith  in  "paper  constitutions,"  nevertheless 


PRELIMINARY.  233 

advocate,  such  conduct  towards  inferior  races,  as  implies  the 
belief  that  civilized  social  forms  can  with  advantage  be  im- 
posed on  uncivilized  peoples;  that  the  arrangements  which 
seem  to  us  vicious  are  vicious  for  them ;  and  that  they  would 
benefit  by  institutions — domestic,  industrial,  or  political — 
akin  to  those  which  w^e  find  beneficial.  But  acceptance  of 
the  truth  that  the  type  of  a  society  is  determined  by  the 
natures  of  its  units,  forces  on  us  the  corollary  that  a  regime 
intrinsically  of  the  lowest,  may  yet  be  the  best  possible  under 
primitive  conditions. 

Otherwise  stating  the  matter,  we  must  not  substitute  our 
developed  code  of  conduct,  which  predominantly  concerns 
private  relations,  for  the  undeveloped  code  of  conduct,  which 
predominantly  concerns  public  relations.  iSTow  that  life  is 
generally  occupied  in  peaceful  intercourse  with  fellow-citi- 
zens, ethical  ideas  refer  chiefly  to  actions  between  man  and 
man;  but  in  early  stages,  while  the  occupation  of  life  was 
mainly  in  conflicts  with  adjacent  societies,  such  ethical  ideas 
as  existed  referred  almost  wholly  to  inter-social  actions: 
men's  deeds  were  judged  by  their  direct  bearings  on  tribal 
welfare.  And  since  preservation  of  the  society  takes  prece- 
dence of  individual  preservation,  as  being  a  condition  to  it, 
we  must,  in  considering  social  phenomena,  interpret  good  and 
bad  rather  in  their  earlier  senses  than  in  their  later  senses; 
and  so  must  regard  as  relatively  good,  that  which  furthers 
survival  of  the  society,  great  as  may  be  the  suffering  in- 
flicted on  its  members. 

§437.  Another  of  our  ordinary  conceptions  has  to  be  much 
widened  before  w^e  can  rightly  interpret  political  evolution. 
The  words  "  civilized  "  and  "  savage  "  must  have  given  to 
them  meanings  differing  greatly  from  those  which  are  cur- 
rent. That  broad  contrast  usually  drawn  wholly  to  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  men  who  form  largo  nations,  and  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  the  men  who  form  sim])le  groups,  a  better  knowl- 
edge obliges  us  profoundly  to  (pialify.    Characters  are  to  be 


234  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

found  among  rude  peoples  wliicli  compare  well  witlj  those  of 
the  best  among  cultivated  peoples.  AVitb  little  knowledge 
and  but  rudiuaentaiy  arts,  there  in  some  cases  go  virtues 
which  might  shame  those  among  ourselves  whose  education 
and  polish  are  of  the  highest. 

Surviving  remnants  of  some  primitive  races  in  India,  have 
natures  in  which  truthfulness  seems  to  be  organic.  Not  only 
to  the  surrounding  Hindoos,  higher  intellectually  and  rela- 
tively advanced  in  culture,  are  they  in  this  respect  far  superi- 
or ;  but  they  are  superior  to  Europeans.  Of  certain  of  these 
Hill  peoples  it  is  remarked  that  their  assertions  may  always 
be  accepted  with  perfect  confidence ;  which  is  more  than  can 
be  said  of  manufacturers  who  use  false  trade-marks,  or  of 
diiDlomatists  who  intentionally  delude.  As  having  this  trait 
may  be  named  the  Santiils,  of  whom  Hunter  says,  "  they 
were  the  most  truthful  set  of  men  I  ever  met;  "  and,  again, 
the  Sowrahs,  of  whom  Shortt  says,  "  a  pleasing  feature  in 
their  character  is  their  complete  truthfulness.  They  do  not 
know  how  to  tell  a  lie."  Notwithstanding  their  sexual  rela- 
tions of  a  primitive  and  low  type,  even  the  Todas  are  de- 
scribed as  considering  '^  falsehood  one  of  the  worst  of  vices." 
Though  Metz  says  that  they  practise  dissimulation  towards 
Europeans,  yet  he  recognizes  this  as  a  trait  consequent  on 
their  intercourse  with  Europeans;  and  this  judgment  coin- 
cides ^^^th  one  given  to  me  by  an  Indian  civil  servant  con- 
cerning other  Hill  tribes,  originally  distinguished  by  their 
veracity,  but  who  are  rendered  less  veracious  by  contact  with 
tlie  whites.  So  rare  is  lying  among  these  al)original  races 
whenunvitiated  by  the  ''  civilized,"  that,  of  those  in  Bengal, 
Hunter  singles  out  the  Tipperahs  as  "  the  only  hill-tribe  in 
which  this  vice  is  met  with." 

Similarly  in  respect  of  honesty,  some  of  these  peoples 
classed  as  inferior  read  lessons  to  those  classed  as  superior. 
Of  the' Todas  just  named,  ignorant  and  degraded  as  they  are 
in  some  respects,  Harkness  says,  "  I  never  saw  a  people, 
civilized  or  uncivilized,  who  seemed  to  have  a  more  religious 


PRELIMINARY.  235 

respect  for  the  rights  of  meuni  and  tuum."  The  Marias 
(Gonds),  "  in  common  with  many  other  wild  races,  bear  a 
singular  character  for  truthfulness  and  honesty."  Among 
the  Khonds  "  the  denial  of  a  debt  is  a  breach  of  this  principle, 
which  is  held  to  be  highly  sinful.  '  Let  a  man,'  say  they, 
'  give  up  all  he  has  to  his  creditors.'  "  The  Santal  prefers  to 
have  "no  dealings  with  his  g-uests;  but  when  his  guests 
introduce  the  subject  he  deals  with  them  as  honestly  as  he 
would  with  his  own  people:  "  "  he  names  the  true  price  at 
first."     The  Lepchas  '^  are  wonderfully  honest,  theft  being 

■  scarcely  know'n  among  them."  And  the  Bodo  and  Dhimals 
are  "  honest  and  truthful  in  deed  and  word."  Colonel  Dixon 
dilates  on  the  '"  fidelity,  truth,  and  honesty  "  of  the  Carhatic 

,  aborigines,  who  show  "an  extreme  and  almost  touching 
devotion  when  put  upon  their  honour."  And  Hunter  asserts 
of  the  Chakmas,  that  "  crime  is  rare  among  these  primitive 

people Theft  is  almost  unknown." 

So  it  is,  too,  with  the  general  virtues  of  these  and  sundry 
other  uncivilized  tribes.  The  Santal  "  possesses  a  happy  dis- 
position," is  "  sociable  to  a  fault,"  and  while  the  "  sexes  are 
greatly  devoted  to  each  other's  society,"  the  women  are  "  ex- 
ceedingly chaste."  The  Bodo  and  the  Dhimals  are  "  full  of 
amiable  qualities."  The  Lepcha,  "  cheerful,  kind,  and  pa- 
tient," is  described  by  Dr.  Hooker  as  a  most  "  attractive  con- 
panion ;  "  and  Dr.  Campbell  gives  "  an  instance  of  the  effect 
of  a  very  strong  sense  of  duty  on  this  savage."  In  like 
manner,  from  accounts  of  certain  Malayo-Polynesian  socie- 
ties, and  certain  Papuan  societies,  may  be  given  instances 
showing  in  high  degrees  sundry  traits  which  we  ordinarily 
associate  only  with  a  human  nature  that  has  been  long  sub-  • 
ject  to  the  discipline  of  civilized  life  and  the  teachings  of  a 
superior  religion.  One  of  the  latest  testimonials  is  that  of 
Signer  D'Albertis,  who  describes  certain  New  Guinea  people 
he  visited  (near  Yule  Island)  as  strictly  honest,  "  very  kind," 
good  and  peaceful,"  and  who,  after  disputes  between  vil- 
lages, "  are  as  friendly  as  before,  bearing  no  animosity;"  but 


236  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

of  whom  the  Rev.  AV.  G.  Lawes,  coinnienting  on  Signor 
D'Albertis'  communication  to  the  Colonial  Institute,  says 
that  their  goodwill  to  the  whites  is  being  destroyed  by  the 
whites'  ill-treatment  of  them:    the  usual  history. 

Contrariwise,  in  various  parts  of  the  world  men  of  several 
types  yield  proofs  that  societies  relatively  advanced  in 
organization  and  culture,  may  yet  be  inhuman  in  their  ideas, 
sentiments,  and  usages.  The  Fijiaiis,  described  by  Dr. 
Pickering  as  among  the  most  intelligent  of  unlettered 
peoples,  are  among  the  most  ferocious.  "  Intense  and  venge- 
ful malignity  strongly  marks  the  Fijian  character."  Lying, 
treachery,  theft,  and  murder,  are  with  them  not  criminal,  l)ut 
honourable;  infanticide  is  immense  in  extent;  strangling 
the  sickh'  habitual;  and  they  sometimes  cut  u})  while  alive 
the  human  victims  they  are  going  to  eat.  Nevertheless  they 
have  a  "'  complicated  and  carefully-conducted  political 
system;  "  well-organized  military  forces;  elaborate  fortifi- 
cations; a  developed  agriculture  with  succession  of  crops 
and  irrigation;  a  considerable  division  of  labour;  a  separate 
distributing  agency  with  inci])ient  currency;  and  a  skilled 
industry  which  builds  canoes  that  carry  three  hundred 
men.  Take  again  an  African  society,  Dahomey.     We 

find  there  a  finished  system  of  classes,  six  in  number;  com- 
plex governniental  arrangements  with  otlicials  always  in 
pairs;  an  army  divided  into  battalions,  having  reviews  and 
sham  fights;  prisons,  jjolice,  and  sumptuary  laws;  an  agri- 
culture which  uses  manure  and  grows  a  score  kinds  of  plants; 
moated  towns,  bridges,  and  roads  with  turnpikes.  Vet  along 
with  this  comparatively  high  social  development  there  goes 
what  we  may  call  organized  criminality.  Wars  are  made  to 
get  skulls  with  which  to  decorate  the  royal  ]ialaee;  hundreds 
of  subjects  are  killed  when  a  king  dies;  and  great  nuiid)ers 
are  annually  slaughtered  to  carry  messages  to  the  other 
world.  Described  as  cruel  and  blood-thirsty,  liars  and 
cheats,  the  people  are  "  void  either  of  symjiathy  or  gratitude, 
even  in  their  own  families;  "  so  that  "  not  even  the  appear- 


PRELIMINARY.  237 

ance  of  affection  exists  between  husband  and  wife,  or  be- 
tween parents  and  children."  The  Xew  World,  too, 
furnished  when  it  was  discovered,  like  evidence.  Ha^dng 
gTeat  cities  of  120,000  houses,  the  Mexicans  had"  also  can- 
nibal gods,  whose  idols  were  fed  on  warm,  reeking,  human 
flesh,  thrust  into  their  mouths — wars  being  made  purposely 
to  supply  victims  for  them;  and  with  skill  to  build  vast  and 
stately  temples,  there  went  the  immolation  of  two  thousand 
five  hundred  persons  annually,  in  Mexico  and  adjacent  towns 
alone,  and  of  a  far  greater  number  throughout  the  country  at 
large.  Similarly  in  the  populous  Central  American  States, 
sufficiently  civilized  to  have  a  developed  system  of  calcula- 
tion, a  regular  calendar,  books,  maps.  Arc,  there  were  exten- 
sive sacrifices  of  prisoners,  slaves,  children,  whose  hearts 
were  torn  out  and  ofi^ered  palpitating  on  altars,  and  who,  in 
other  cases,  were  flayed  alive  and  their  skins  used  as  dancing- 
dresses  by  the  priests. 

Xor  need  we  seek  in  remote  regions  or  among  alien  races, 
for  proofs  that  there  does  not  exist  a  necessary  connexion 
between  the  social  types  classed  as  civilized  and  those 
higher  sentiments  which  we  commonly  associate  with  civili- 
zation. The  mutilations  of  prisoners  exhibited  on  Assyrian 
sculptures  are  not  surpassed  in  cruelty  by  any  we  find  among 
the  most  bloodthirsty  of  wild  races;  and  Rameses  II.,  who 
delighted  in  having  himself  sculptured  on  temple-walls 
throughout  Egypt  as  holding  a  dozen  captives  by  the  hair, 
and  striking  oft"  their  heads  at  a  blow,  slaughtered  during  his 
conquests  more  human  beings  than  a  thousand  chiefs  of 
savage  tribes  put  together.  The  tortures  inflicted  on  cap- 
tured enemies  by  Red  Indians  are  not  greater  than  were 
those  inflicted  of  old  on  felons  by  crucifixion,  or  on  sus])ected 
rebels  by  sewing  them  up  in  the  hides  of  slaughtered  animals, 
or  on  heretics  by  smearing  them  over  with  combustibles  and 
setting  fire  to  them.  The  Damaras,  described  as  so  heartless 
tliat  they  laugh  on  seeing  one  of  their  number  killed  by  a 
wild  beast,  are  not  worse  than  were  the  Romans,  who  gratified 


238  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tlieuiselvcs  bj  watching-  wholesale  slaughters  in  their  arenas. 
If  the  numbers  destroyed  by  the  hordes  of  Attila  were  not 
equalled  by  the  numbers  which  the  Roman  armies  destroyed 
at  the  conquest  of  Selueia,  and  by  the  numbers  of  the  Jews 
massacred  under  Hadrian,  it  was  simply  because  the  occa- 
sions did  not  permit.  The  cruelties  of  Xero,  Gallienus,  and 
the  rest,  may  compare  with  those  of  Zingis  and  Timour;  and 
when  we  read  of  Caracalla,  that  after  he  had  murdert'd 
twenty  thousand  friends  of  his  murdered  brother,  his  soldiers 
forced  the  Senate  to  place  him  among  the  gods,  we  are  shown 
that  in  the  Ivoman  i)eople  there  was  a  ferocity  not  less  than 
that  which  deities  the  most  sanguinary  chiefs  among  the  worst 
of  savages,  i^or  did  Christianity  greatly  change  matters. 
Throughout  Mediaeval  Europe,  political  oliences  and  religious 
dissent  brought  on  men  carefully-devised  agonies  eiiualling  if 
not  exceeding  any  inflicted  by  the  most  brutal  of  barbarians. 
Startling  as  the  truth  seems,  it  is  yet  a  truth  to  be  recog- 
nized, that  increase  of  humanity  does  not  go  on  pari  passu 
with  civilization ;  but  that,  contrariwise,  the  earlier  stages  of 
civilization  necessitate  a  relative  inhumanity.  Among  tribes 
of  primitive  men,  it  is  the  more  brutal  rather  than  the  more 
kindly  who  succeed  in  those  conquests  which  effect  the  earli- 
est social  consolidations;  and  through  many  subsequent 
stages  unscrupulous  aggression  outside  of  the  society  and 
cruel  coercion  within,  are  the  habitual  concomitants  of  \)o- 
litical  development.  The  men  of  whom  the  better  organized 
societies  have  been  formed,  were  at  first,  and  long  continued 
tobe,nothing  else  but  the  strongerand  more  cunningsavages; 
and  cA-en  now,  when  freed  from  those  influences  which  super- 
ficially modify  their  behaviour,  they  prove  themselves  to  be 
little  better.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  we  contemplate  the  utterly 
uncivilized  AVood-Yeddahs,  who  are  described  as  "proverbial- 
ly truthful  and  honest,"  "  gentle  and  affectionate,"  "obeying 
the  alightest  intimation  of  a  wish,  and  very  grateful  for  atten- 
tion or  assistance,"  and  of  whom  Pridham  remarks — "  What 
a  lesson  in  gratitude  and  delicacy  even  a  Veddah  may  teach ! " 


PRELIMINARY.  239 

and  tlien  if,  on  the  otiier  hand,  we  contemplate  our  own 
recent  acts  of  international  brigandage,  accompanied  by  the 
slaughter  of  thousands  who  have  committed  no  wrong  against 
us — accompanied,  too,  by  perfidious  breaches  of  faith  and 
the  killing  of  prisoners  in  cold  blood;  we  must  admit  that  be- 
tween the  types  of  men  classed  as  uncivilized  and  civilized, 
the  differences  are  not  necessarily  of  the  kinds  commonly 
supposed,  ^\Tiatever  relation  exists  between  moral  nature 
and  social  type,  is  not  such  as  to  imply  that  the  social  man  is 
in  all  respects  emotionally  superior  to  the  pre-social  man.* 

§  438.  "  How  is  this  conclusion  to  be  reconciled  with  the 
conception  of  progTess  ?  "  most  readers  will  ask.  "  How  is 
civilization  to  be  justified  if,  as  is  thus  implied,  some  of  the 
highest  of  human  attributes  are  exhibited  in  greater  degTees 
by  wild  people  who  live  scattered  in  pairs  in  the  woods,  than 
by  the  members  of  a  vast,  well-organized  nation,  having 

*  What  the  social  man.  even  of  advanced  race,  is  capable  of,  has  been 
again  shown  while  these  lines  are  standing  in  type.  To  justify  the  destruc- 
tion of  two  African  towns  in  Batanga,  we  are  told  that  their  king,  wishing  to 
have  a  trading  factory  established,  and  disappointed  with  the  ptomise  of  a 
sub-factory,  boarded  an  English  schooner,  carried  off  Mr.  Govier,  the  mate, 
and  refusing  to  release  him  when  asked,  "  threatened  to  cut  the  man's  head 
off":  a  strange  mode,  if  true,  of  getting  a  trading  factory  established. 
Mr.  Govier  afterwards  escaped ;  not  having  been  ill-treated  during  his  de- 
tention. Anchoring  the  Boadicea  and  two  gunboats  off  Kribby's  Town 
("King  Jack's"  residence).  Commodore  Richards  demanded  of  the  king 
that  he  should  come  on  board  and  explain:  promising  hira  safety,  and 
threatening  serious  consequences  in  case  of  refusal.  Not  trusting  the  prom- 
ise, the  king  failed  to  come.  Without  ascertaining  from  the  natives  whether 
they  had  any  reason  for  laying  hands  on  Mr.  Govier,  save  this  most  im- 
probable one  alleged  by  our  people,  Commodore  Richards  proceeded,  after 
some  hours'  notice,  to  clear  the  beach  with  shells,  to  burn  the  town  of  300 
houses,  to  cut  down  the  natives'  crops,  and  to  destroy  their  canoes ;  and  then, 
not  satisfied  with  burning  "  King  Jack's  "  town,  went  further  south  and 
burnt "  King  Long-Long's  "  town.  These  facts  are  published  in  the  Times 
of  September  10. 1880.  In  an  article  on  them,  this  organ  of  English  respec- 
tability regrets  that  "the  punishment  must  seem,  to  the  childish  miifd  of 
the  savage,  wholly  dispropdrtionatc  to  the  offence  :"  implying  that  to  the 
adult  mind  of  the  civilized  it  will  not  seem  dispro[)<n'tionate.  Further,  this 
leading  journal  of  ruling  classes  who  hold  that,  in  the  absence  of  established 
7-1       . 


240  POLITICAL  IXSriTUTIONS. 

marvellously-elaborated  arts,  extensive  and  profound  know- 
ledge, and  multitudinous  api)lianees  to  welfare:!"  The 
answer  to  this  question  will  best  be  •  conveyed  by  an 
analogy. 

As  carried  on  throughout  the  animate  world  at  large,  the 
struggle  for  existence  has  been  an  indispensable  means  to 
evolution.  Xot  simply  do  we  see  that  in  the  competition 
among  individuals  of  the  same  kind,  survival  of  the  fittest, 
has  from  the  beginning  furthered  })roduction  of  a  higher 
type;  but  we  see  that  to  the  unceasing  warfare  between 
species  is  mainly  due  both  growth  and  organization.  With- 
out universal  confiict  there  would  have  been  no  development 
of  the  active  powers.  The  organs  of  perception  and  of  loco- 
motion have  been  little  by  little  evolved  during  the  inter- 
action of  pursuers  and  pursued.  Improved  limbs  and  senses 
have  furnished  better  supplies  to  the  viscera,  and  improved 
visceral  structures  have  ensured  a  better  supply  of  aerated 
blood  to  the  limbs  and  senses ;  while  a  higher  nervous  system 
has  at  each  stage  been  called  into  play  for  co-ordinating  the 
actions  of  these  more  complex  structures.  Among  predatory 
animals  death  by  starvation,  and  among  animals  preyed  upon 
death  by  destruction,  have  carried  off  the  least-favourably 
modified  individuals  and  varieties.  Every  advance  in 
strength,  speed,  agility,  or  sagacity,  in  creatures  of  the  one 
class,  has  necessitated  a  corr(>s])onding  advance  in  creatures 
of  tlie  other  class;  and  without  never-ending  eff'oi'ts  to  catch 
and  to  escape,  with  loss  of  life  as  tJie  penalty  for  failure,  the 
progTCSs  of  neither  could  have  been  aidiieved. 

theological  dogmas,  there  would  be  no  distinction  between  right  and  wrong, 
remarks  that  •'  if  it  were  not  for  this  dark  shadow  cast  over  it  by  this  loss  of 
life"  [of  two  of  our  men],  "  the  whole  episode  would  be  somewhat  humor- 
ous." Doubtless,  after  the  "  childish  mind  of  the  savage  "  has  accepted  the 
"  glad  tidings  "  brought  by  missionaries  of  •'  the  religion  of  love,"  there  is 
humour,  somewhat  of  the  grim;nest,  perhaps,  in  showing  him  the  practice 
of  this  religion  by  burning  his  house.  Comments  on  Christian  virtues,  ut- 
tered by  exploding  shells,  may  fitly  be  accompanied  by  a  Mcphistophelian 
smile.  Possibly  the  king,  in  declining  to  trust  himself  on  board  an  English 
ship,  was  swayed  by  the  common  Negro  belief  that  the  devil  is  white. 


PRELIMINARY.  241 

Mark  now,  however,  that  while  this  merciless  discipline  of 
Nature,  "  red  in  tooth  and  claw,"  has  been  essential  to 
the  progress  of  sentient  life,  its  persistence  through  -all 
time  with  all  creatures  must  not  be  inferred.  The  high 
organization  evolved  by  and  for  this  universal  conflict,  is  not 
necessarily  for  ever  employed  to  like  ends.  The  resulting 
power  and  intelligence  admit  of  being  far  otherwise  em- 
ployed. ISTot  for  offence  and  defence  only  are  the  inherited 
structures  useful,  but  for  various  other  purposes;  and  these 
various  other  purposes  may  finally  become  the  exclusive  pur- 
poses. The  myriads  of  years  of  warfare  which  have  devel- 
oped the  powers  of  all  lower  types  of  creatures,  have  be- 
queathed to  the  highest  type  of  creature  the  powers  now  used 
by  him  for  countless  objects  besides  those  of  killing  and 
avoiding  being  killed.  His  limbs,  teeth  and  nails  are  but 
little  employed  in  fight;  and  his  mind  is  not  ordinarily  occu- 
pied in  devising  ways  of  destroying  other  creatures,  or  guard- 
ing himself  from  injury  by  them. 

Similarly  with  social  organisms.  We  must  recognize  the 
truth  that  the  struggles  for  existence  between  societies  have 
been  instrumental  to  their  evolution.  iSTeither  the  consolida- 
tion and  re-consolidation  of  small  groups  into  large  ones ;  nor 
the  organization  of  such  compound  and  doubly  compound 
groups;  nor  the  concomitant  developments  of  those  aids  to 
a  higher  life  which  civilization  has  brought;  would  have 
been  possible  without  inter-tribal  and  inter-national  con- 
flicts. Social  cooperation  is  initiated  by  joint  defence  and 
offence;  and  from  the  cooperation  thus  initiated,  all  kinds  of 
cooperations  have  arisen.  Inconceivable  as  have  been  the 
horrors  caused  by  this  universal  antagonism  which,  begin- 
ning with  the  chronic  hostilities  of  small  hordes  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  years  ago,  has  ended  in  the  occasional  vast  battles  of  ^ 
immense  nations,  we  must  nevertheless  admit  that  with-  . 
out  it  the  world  would  still  have  been  inhabited  onlv  bv 
men  of  feeble  types,  sheltering  in  caves  and  liWno-  on  wild  \ 
food.  ^ 


242  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

But  now  observe  that  the  inter-social  struggle  for  exist- 
ence which  has  been  indispensable  in  evolving  societies,  will 
not  necessarily  play  in  the  future  a  part  like  that  which  it  has 
played  in  the  past.  Kecognizing  our  indebtedness  to  war  for 
forming  great  communities  and  developing  their  structures, 
we  may  yet  infer  that  the  acquired  powers,  available  for  other 
activities,  will  lose  their  original  activities.  ^Vhile  conceding 
that  without  these  perpetual  bloody  strifes,  civilized  societies- 
could  not  have  arisen,  and*  that  an  adapted  form  of  human 
nature,  fierce  as  well  as  intelligent,  was  a  needful  concomitant; 
we  may  at  the  same  "time  hold  that  such  societies  having  been 
produced,  the  brutality  of  nature  in  their  units  which  was 
necessitated  by  the  process,  ceasing  to  be  necessary  with  the 
cessation  of  the  process,  will  disappear.  While  the  benelits 
achieved  during  the  predatory  period  remain  a  permanent 
inheritance,  the  evils'  entailed  by  it  will  decrease  and  slowly 
die  out. 

Thus,  then,  contemplating  social  structures  and  actions 
from  the  evolution  point  of  view,  we  may  preserve  that 
calmness  which  is  needful  for  scientific  interpretation  of 
them,  without  losing  our  powers  of  feeling  moral  reproba- 
tion or  approbation. 

§  439.  To  these  preliminary  remarks  respecting  the  men- 
tal attitude  to  be  preserved  by  the  student  of  political  insti- 
tutions, a  few  briefer  ones  must  be  added  respecting  the 
subject-matters  he  has  to  deal  with. 

If  societies  were  all  of  the  same  species  and  differed  only 
ill  their  stages  of  growtli  and  structure,  coni]i:iris(ins  would 
disclose  clearly  the  course  of  evolution;  but  un likenesses 
of  tyj^e  among  them,  here  great  and  tlicrc  small,  obscure  tlie 
results  of  such  comparisons. 

Again,  if  each  society  gi'cw  and  unfuldcd  itself  witliout 
the  intrusion  of  additional  factors,  interpretation  would  be 
relatively  easy;  but  the  complicated  processes  of  develop- 
ment are  frequently  re-complicated  by  changes  in  the  sets  of 


PRELIMINARY.  243 

factors.  Xow  the  size  of  the  social  aggregate  is  all  at  once 
increased  or  decreased  by  annexation  or  by  loss  of  territory; 
and  now  the  average  character  of  its  units  is  altered  by  the 
coming  in  of  another  race  as  conquerors  or  as  slaves;  while, 
as  a  further  ett'ect  of  this  event,  new  social  relations  are 
superposed  on  the  old.  In  many  cases  the  repeated  over- 
runnings  of  societies  by  one  another,  the  minglings  of  peo- 
ples and  institutions,  the  breakings  up  and  re-aggregations, 
so  destroy  the  continuity  of  normal  processes  as  to  make  it 
extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  draw  conclu- 
sions. 

Once  more,  modifications  in  the  average  mode  of  life  pur- 
sued by  a  society,  now  increasingly  warlike  and  now  increas- 
ingly industrial,  initiate  metamorphoses:  changed  activities 
generate  changes  of  structures.  Consequently  there  have 
to  be  distinguished  those  progressive  re-arrangements  caused 
by  the  further  development  of  one  social  type,  from  those 
caused  by  the  commencing  development  of  another  social 
type.  The  lines  of  an  organization  adapted  to  a  mode  of 
activity  which  has  ceased,  or  has  been  long  suspended,  begin 
to  fade,  and  are  traversed  by  the  increasingly-definite  lines 
of  an  organization  adapted  to  the  mode  of  activity  which  has 
replaced  it;  and  error  may  result  from  mistaking  traits  be- 
longing to  the  one  for  those  belonging  to  the  other. 

Hence  we  may  infer  that  out  of  the  complex  and  confused 
evidence,  only  the  larger  truths  will  emerge  with  clearness. 
While  anticipating  that  certain  general  conclusions  are  to  be 
positively  established,  we  may  anticipate  that  more  special 
ones  can  be  alleged  only  as  probable. 

Happily,  however,  as  we  shall  eventually  see,  those  gen- 
eral conclusions  admitting  of  positive  establishment,  are  the 
conclusions  of  most  value  for  guidance. 


CHAPTER  11. 

POLITICAL    OKGAiSlZATlON    IN    GENERAL. 

§  440.  The  mere  gathering  of  individuals  into  a  gTOtip 
does  not  constitute  them  a  society.  A  society,  in  the  socio- 
logical sense,  is  formed  only  when,  besides  juxtaposition  there 
is  cooperation.  So  long  as  members  of  the  group  do  not 
combine  their  energies  to  achieve  some  common  end  or  ends, 
there  is  little  to  keep  them  together.  They  are  prevented 
from  separating  only  when  the  wants  of  each  are  better  sat- 
isfied by  uniting  his  efforts  with  those  of  others,  than  they 
would  be  if  he  acted  alone. 

Cooperation,  then,  is  at  once  that  which  can  not  exist 
without  a  society,  and  that  for  which  a  society  exists.  It 
may  be  a  joining  of  many  strengths  to  affect  something  which 
the  strength  of  no  single  man 'can  effect;  or  it  may  be  an 
apportioning  of  different  activities  to  different  persons,  who 
severally  participate  in  the  benefits  of  one  another's  activities. 
The  motive  for  acting.together,  originally  the  dominant  one, 
may  be  defence  against  enemies;  or  it  may  be  the  easier  ob- 
tainment  of  food,  by  the  chase  or  otherwise;  or  it  may  be, 
and  commonly  is,  both  of  these.  In  any  case,  however,  the 
units  pass  from  the  state  of  perfect  independence  to  the  state 
of  mutual  dependence;  and  as  fast  as  they  do  this  they  be- 
come united  into  a  society  rightly  so  called. 

But  cooperation  implies  organization.  If  acts  are  to  be  ef- 
fectually combined,  there  must  be  arrangements  under  which 
they  are  adjusted  in  their  times,  amounts,  and  characters. 

§  441.   This  social  organization,  necessary  as  a  means  to 

concerted  action,  is  of  two  kinds.     Though  these  two  kinds 

244 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  245 

generally  co-exist,  and  are  more  or  less  interfused,  yet  they 
are  distinct  in  their  origins  and  natures.  There  is  a  spon- 
taneous cooperation  which  grows  up  without  thought  during 
the  pursuit  of  private  ends;  and  there  is  a  cooperation  which, 
consciously  devised,  implies  distinct  recognition  of  public 
ends.  The  ways  in  which -the  two  are  respectively  estab- 
lished and  carried  on,  present  marked  contrasts. 

"Whenever,  in  a  primitive  gTOup,  there  begins  that  coopera- 
tion which  is  effected  by  exchange  of  services — whenever 
individuals  find  their  wants  better  satisfied  by  giving  certain 
products  which  they  can  make  best,  in  return  for  other  pro- 
ducts they  are  less  skilled  in  making,  or*not  so  well  circum- 
stanced for  making,  there  is  initiated  a  kind  of  organization 
which  then,  and  throughout  its  higher  stages,  results  from 
endeavours  to  meet  personal  needs.  Division  of  labour,  to 
the  last  as  at  first,  gTows  by  experience  of  mutual  facilita- 
tions in  living.  Each  new  specialization  of  industry  arises 
from  the  effort  of  one  who  commences  it  to  get  profit ;  and 
establishes  itself  by  conducing  in  some  way  to  the  profit  of 
others.  So  that  there  is  a  kind  of  concerted  action,  with  an 
elaborate  social  organization  developed  by  it,  which  does  not 
originate  in  deliberate  concert.  Though  within  the  small 
subdivisions  of  this  organization,  we  find  everywhere  repeated 
the  relation  of  em])l(jyer  and  employed,  of  wliom  the  one 
directs  the  actions  of  the  other;  yet  this  relation,  sponta- 
neously formed  in  aid  of  private  ends  and  continued  only  at 
will,  is  not  foniiod  with  conscious  reference  to  achievement 
of  pul)lic  ends:  these  are  not  thought  of.  And  though,  for 
regulating  trading  activities,  there  arise  agencies  serving  to 
adjust  the  supplies  of  commodities  to  the  demands;  yet  such 
agencies  do  this  not  by  direct  stimulations  or  restraints,  but 
by  communicating  information  which  serves  to  stimulate  or 
restrain;  and,  further,  these  agencies  grow  up  not  for  the 
avowed  i^nrpose  of  thus  regulating,  bait  in  the  pursuit  of  gain 
by  individuals.  So  unintentionally  has  there  arisen  the 
elaborate  division  of  labour  by  which  production  and  distri- 


246  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

butiou  are  now  carried  on,  that  only  in  modern  days  has 
there  come  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  it  has  all  along 
been  arising. 

On  the  other  hand,  cooperation  for  a  purpose  immediately 
concerning  the  whole  society,  is  a  conscious  cooperation ;  and 
is  carried  on  by  an  organization  of  another  kind,  formed  in  a 
different  way.  When  the  primitive  group  has  to  defend 
itself  against  other  groups,  its  members  act  together  under 
further  stimuli  than  those  constituted  by  purely  personal 
desires.  Even  at  the  outset,  before  any  control  by  a  chief 
exists,  there  is  the  control  exercised  by  the  group  over  its 
members;  each  of  \rliom  is  obliged,  by  public  opinion,  to  join 
in  the  general  defence.  Very  soon  the  warrior  of  recognized 
superiority  begins  to  exercise  over  each,  during  war,  an  in- 
fluence additional  to  that  exercised  by  the  group;  and  when 
his  authority  becomes  established,  it  greatly  furthers  com- 
bined action.  From  the  beginning,  therefore,  this  kind  of 
social  cooperation  is  a  conscious  cooperation,  and  a  coopera- 
tion which  is  not  wholly  a  matter  of  choice — is  often  at 
variance  with  i)rivate  wishes.  As  the  organization  initiated 
by  it  develops,  we  se§  that,  in  the  first  place,  the  fighting 
division  of  the  society  displays  in  the  highest  degree  these 
same  traits:  the  grades  and  divisions  constituting  an  army, 
cooperate  more  and  more  under  the  regulation,  consciously 
established,  of  agencies  which  override  individual  volitions — 
or,  to  speak  strictly,  control  individuals  by  motives  which 
prevent  them  from  acting  as  they  would  spontaneously  act. 
In  the  second  place,  we  see  that  throughout  the  society  as  a 
whole  there  spreads  a  kindred  form  of  organization — kindred 
in  so  far  that,  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  the  militant 
body  and  the  government  which  directs  it,  there  are  esta- 
blished over  citizens,  agencies  which  force  them  to  labour 
mor§  or  less  largely  for  public  ends  instead  of  private  ends. 
And,  simultaneously,  there  develops  a  further  organization, 
still  akin  in  its  fundamental. principle,  which  restrains  indi- 
vidual actions  in  such  wise  that  social  safety  shall  not  be 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  247 

endangered  by  the  disorder  consequent  on  unchecked  pur- 
suit of  pei-sonal  ends.  So  that  this  kind  of  social  organization 
is  distinguished  from  the  other,  as  arising  through  conscious 
pursuit  of  public  ends;  in  furtherance  of  which  individual 
wills  are  constrained,  first  by  the  joint  wills  of  the  entire 
group,  and  afterwards  more  definitely  by  the  will  of  a  regu- 
lative agency  which  the  group  evolves. 

Most  clearly  shall  we  perceive  the  contrast  between  these 
two  kinds  of  organization  on  observing  that,  while  they  are 
both  instrumental  to  social  welfare,  they  are  instrumental  in 
converse  ways.  That  organization  shown  us  by  the  division 
of  labour  for  industrial  purposes,  exhibits  combined  action; 
but  it  is  a  combined  action  which  directly  seeks  and  subserves 
the  welfares  of  individuals,  and  indirectly  subserves  the  Avel- 
fare  of  society  as  a  whole  by  preserving  individuals.  Con- 
versely, that  organization  evolved  for  governmental  and  de- 
fensive purposes,  exhibits  combined  action;  but  it  is  a  com- 
bined action  which  directly  seeks  and  subserves  the  welfare 
of  the  society  as  a  whole,  and  indirectly  subserves  the  wel- 
fares of  individuals  by  protecting  the  society.  Efforts  for 
self-preservation  by  the  units  originate  the  one  form  of  or- 
ganization; while  efforts  for  self-preservation  by  the  aggi-e- 
gate  originate  the  other  form  of  organization.  In  the  first 
case  there  is  conscious  pursuit  of  private  ends  only;  and  the 
correlative  organization  resulting  from  this  pursuit  of  private 
ends,  growing  up  unconsciously,  is  without  coercive  power. 
In  the  second  case  there  is  conscious  pursuit  of  public  ends; 
and  the  correlative  organization,  consciously  established,  ex- 
ercises coercion. 

Of  these  tAvo  kinds  of  cooperation  and  the  structures  ef- 
fecting them,  we  are  here  concerned  only  with  one.  Poli-j 
tical  organization  is  to  be  understood  as  that  part  of  social 
organization  which  constantly  carries  on  directive  and  re- 
straining functions  for  public  ends.  It  is  true,  as  already 
hinted,  and  as  we  shall  see  presently,  that  the  two  kinds  are 
mingled  in  various  ways — that  each  ramifies  through  the 


248  rOLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Other  more  or  less  according  to  their  respective  degrees  of 
predominance.  But  they  are  essentially  different  in  origin 
and  nature;  and  for  the  present  we  must,  so  far  as  may  be, 
limit  our  attention  to  the  last. 

§  442.  That  the  cooperation  into  which  men  have  gradu- 
ally risen  secures  to  them  benefits  which  could  not  be  secured 
while,  in  their  primitive  state,  they  acted  singly;  and  that, 
as  an  indispensable  means  to  this  cooperation,  political  or- 
ganization has  been,  and  is,  advantageous;  w^e  shall  see  on 
contrasting  the  states  of  men  who  are  not  politically  orga- 
nized, with  the  states  of  men  who  are  politically  organized  in 
less  or  greater  degrees. 

There  are,  indeed,  conditions  under  which  as  good  an  indi- 
vidual life  is  possible  without  political  organization  as  with 
it.  Where,  as  in  the  habitat  of  the  Escjuimaux,  there  are 
but  few  persons  and  these  widely  scattered;  where  there  is 
no  war,  probably  because  the  physical  impediments  to  it  are 
great  and  the  motives  to  it  feeble;  and  where  circumstances 
make  the  occupations  so  uniform  that  there  is  little  scope 
for  division  of  labour;  mutual  dependence  can  have  no  place, 
'and  the  arrangements  which  etfeet  it  are  not  needed.  Recog- 
nizing this  exceptional  case,  let  us  consider  the  cases  which 
are  not  exceptional. 

The  Digger  Indians,  "  very  few  degrees  removed  from  the 
ourang-outang,"  who,  scattered  among  the  mountains  of  the 
Sierra  INTevada,  sheltering  in  holes  and  living  on  roots  and 
vermin,  "  drag  out"  a  miserable  existence  in  a  state  of  nature, 
amid  the  most  loathsome  and  disgusting  squalor,"  differ  from 
the  other  divisions  of  the  Shoshones  by  their  entire  lack  of 
social  organization.  The  river-haunting  and  plain-haunting 
divisions  of  the  race,  under  some,  though  but  slight,  go\xrn- 
mental  control,  lead  more  satisfactory  lives.  In  South 
America  the  Chaco  Indians,  low  in  t\^e  as  are  the  Diggers, 
and  like  them  degraded  and  wretched  in  their  lives,  are  simi- 
larly contrasted  with  the  superior  and  more  comfortable  sav- 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  249 

ages  around  them  in  being  dissociated.  Among  the  Bedou- 
in tribes,  the  Sherarat  are  unlike  the  rest  in  being  divided 
and  sub-divided  into  countless  bands  which  have  no  common 
chief;  and  they  are  described  as  being  the  most  miserable  of 
the  Bedouins.  More  decided  still  is  the  contrast  noted  by 
Baker  between  certain  adjacent  African  peoples.  Passing 
suddenly,  he  says,  from  the  unclothed,  ungoverned  tribes — 
from  the  "wildest  savagedom  to  semi-civilisation" — we  come, 
in  Unyoro,  to  a  country  ruled  by  "  an  unflincliiilg  despot," 
inflicting  "death  or  torture"  for  "the  most  trivial  offences  ;" 
but  where  they  have  developed  administration,  sub-govern- 
ors, taxes,  good  clothing,  arts,  agi'lculture,  architecture.  So, 
too,  concerning  Xew  Zealand  when  first  discovered.  Cook 
remarked  that  there  seemed  to  be  greater  prosperity  and  popu- 
lousness  in  the  regions  subject  to  a  king. 

These  last  cases  introduce  us  to  a  further  truth.  iSTot  only 
does  that  first  step  in  political  organization  which  places 
individuals  under  tlie  control  of  a  tribal  chief,  bring  the  ad- 
vantages gained  by  better  cooperation ;  but  such  advantages 
are  increased  when  minor  political  heads  become  subject  to 
a  major  political  head.  As  typifying  the  evils,  which  are 
thereby  avoided,  I  may  name  the  fact  that  among  the  Beloo- 
chees,  whose  tribes,  unsubordinated  to  a  general  ruler,  are 
constantly  at  war  with  one  another,  it  is  the  habit  to  erect  a 
small  mud  tower  in  each  field,  where  the  possessor  and  his 
retainers  guard  his  produce:  a  state  of  things  allied  to,  but 
worse  than,  that  of  the  Highland  clans,  with  their  strongholds 
for  sheltering  women  and  cattle  from  the  inroads  of  their 
neighbours,  in  davs  when  thev  were  not  under  the  control  of 
a  central  power.  The  benefits  derived  from  such  wider  con- 
trol, whether  of  a  simple  head  or  of  a  compound  head,  were 
felt  by  the  early  Greeks  when  an  Amphictyonic  council  es- 
tablished the  laws  that  "  no  Hellenic  tribe  is  to  lay  the  habi- 
tations of  another  level  with  the  ground;  and  from  no 
Hellenic  city  is  the  water  to  be  cut  off  during  a  siege."  How 
that  advance  of  political  structure  which  unites  smaller  com- 


251)  POLITICAL   LXSTITUTIONS. 

iniuiitics  into  larger  9iies  furthers  welfare,  was  sllO^VIl  in  our 
own  country  when,  by  the  Roman  conquest,  the  incessant 
lights  between  tribes  were  stopped ;  and  again,  in  later  days, 
when  feudal  nobles,  becoming  subject  to  a  monarch,  were  de- 
barred from  private  wars.  Under  its  converse  aspect  the 
same  truth  was  illustrated  when,  amidst  the  anarchy  which 
followed  the  collapse  of  the  Carolingian  empire,  dukes  and 
counts,  resuming  their  independence,  became  active  enemies 
to  one  anotlier:  their  state  being  ;?uch  that  "  when  they  were 
not  at  war  they  lived  by  open  plunder."  And  the  history  of 
Europe  has  repeatedly,  in  many  places  and  times,  furnished 
kindred  illustrations. 

While  political  organization,  as  it  extends  itself  throughout 
masses  of  increasing  size,  directly  furthers  welfare  by  re- 
moving that  impediment  to  cooperation  which  the  antago- 
nisms of  individuals  and  of  tribes  cause,  it  indirectly  furthers 
it  in  another  way.  Nothing  beyond  a  rudimentary  division 
of  labour  can  arise  in  a  small  social  group.  Before  commo- 
dities can  be  multiplied  in  their  kinds,  there  must  be  multi- 
plied kinds  of  producers;  and  beft)re  each  commodity  can  be 
produced  in  the  most  economical  way,  the  different  stages 
in  the  production  of  it  must  be  apportioned  among  special 
hands.  Nor  is  this  all.  Neither  the  required  complex  com- 
binations of  individuals,  nor  the  elaborate  mechanical  appli- 
ances which  facilitate  manufacture,  can  arise  in  the  absence 
of  a  large  community,  generating  a  great  dcnumd. 

§  443.  But  though  the  advantages  gained  by  cooperation 
presuppose  political  organization,  this  political  organization 
necessitates  disadvantages;  and  it  is  (piite  possible  for  tliese 
disadvantages  to  outweigh  the  advantages.  The  controlling 
structures  have  to  be  maintained;  the  restraints  they  impose 
have  to  be  borne;  and  the  evils  inflicted  by  taxation  and  by 
tyranny  may  become  greater  than  the  evils  prevented. 

Where,  as  in  the  East,  the  rapacity  of  monarchs  has  some- 
times gone  to  the  extent  of  taking  from  cultivators  so  much. 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  251 

of  their  produce  as  to  have  afterwards  to  return  part  for 
seed,  we  see  exemplified  the  truth  that  the  agency  which 
maintains  order  may  cause  miseries  greater  than  the  misenes 
caused  by  disorder.  The  state  of  Egypt  nnder  the 

Romans,  who,  on  the  native  set  of  officials  superposed  tlieir 
own  set,  and  ^vho  made  drafts  on  the  country's  resources  not 
for  local  administration  only  but  also  for  imperial  administra- 
tion, furnishes  an  instance.  Beyond  the  regular  taxes  there 
weredemandsforfeedingand  clothing  the  military,  wherever 
quartered.  Extra  calls  were  continually  made  on  the  people 
for  maintaining  public  works  and  subaltern  agents.  Men  in 
office  were  themselves  so  impoverished  by  exactions  that 
they  "  assumed  dishonourable  employments  or  became  the 
slaves  of  persons  in  power."  Gifts  made  to  the  government 
were  soon  converted  into  forced  contributions.  And  those 
who  purchased  immunities  from  extortions  found  them 
disregarded  as  soon  as  the  sums  asked  had  been  re- 
ceived. More  terrible  still  were  the  curses  following 
excessive  development  of  political  organization  in  Gaul, 
during  the  decline  of  the  "Roman  Empire: — 

"So  numerous  were  the  receivers  in  comparison  with  the  payers,  and 
so  enormous  the  weight  of  taxation,  that  the  labourer  broke  down, 
the  plains  became  deserts,  and  wogds  grew  where  the  plough  had 

been It  were  impossible  to  number  the  officials  who  were  rained 

upon  every  province  and  town.  . ' .  .  .  The  crack  of  the  lash  and  the  cry 
of  the  tortured  tilled  the  air.  The  faithful  slave  was  tortured  for  evi- 
dence against  his  master,  the  wife  to  depose  against  her  husband,  the 

son  against  his  sire Not  satisfied  with  the  returns  of  the  first 

enumerators,  they  sent  a  succession  of  others,  who  each  swelled  the 
vahiation — as  a  proof  of  service  done ;  and  so  the  imposts  went  on  in- 
creasing. Yet  tlie  number  of  cattle  fell  off,  and  the  people  died. 
Nevertheless,  tlie  survivors  had  to  pay  the  taxes  of  the  dead." 
And  how  lilcrnlly  in  this  case  the  benefits  were  exceeded  by 
the  mischiefs,  is  shown  by  the  contemporary  statement  that 
"  they  fear  the  enemy  less  than  the  tax-gatherer:  the  truth 
is,  that  they  fly  to  the  first  to  avoid  the  last.  Hence  the  one 
unanimous  wish  of  the  Roman  populace,  that  it  was  their  lot 
to  live  with  the  barbarian."  In  the  same  reaion  duriuir 


252  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

later  times  the  lesson  was  repeated.  While  internal  peace  and 
its  blessing's  Avere  achieved  in  mediaeval  France  as  fast  as 
feudal  nobles  became  subordinate  to  the  king — while  the  cen- 
tral power,  as  it  grew  stronger,  put  an  end  to  that  primitive 
practice  of  a  blood-revenge  which  wreaked  itself  on  any  rela- 
tive of  an  offender,  and  made  the  ''  truce  of  God  "  a  needful 
mitigation  of  the  universal  savagery;  yet  from  this  extension 
of  political  organization  there  presently  grew  up  evils  as  great 
or  greater — multiplication  of  taxes,  forced  loans,  groundless 
confiscations,  arbitrary  fines,  progressive  debasements  of 
coinage,  and  a  universal  corruption  of  justice  consequent  on 
the  sale  of  offices:  the  results  being  that  many  people  died 
by  famine,  some  committed  suicide,  while  others,  deserting 
their  homes,  led  a  wandering  life.  And  then,  afterwards, 
when  the  supreme  ruler,  becoming  absolute,  controlled  social 
action  in  all  its  details,  through  an  administrative  system  vast 
in  extent  and  ramifications,  with  the  general  result  that  in 
less  than  two  centuries  the  indirect  taxation  alone  "  crossed 
the  enormous  interval  between  11  millions  and  311,"  there 
came  the  national  impoverishment  and  misery  which  resulted 
in  the  great  revolution.  Even  the  present  day  sup- 

plies kindred  evideni-e  from  sundry  places.  A  voyage  up  the 
Xile  shows  every  observer  that  the  peojile  are  better  off 
where  they  ar(^  remote  from  the  centre  of  govcM-nment — that 
is,  where  administrative  agencies  cannot  so  easily  reach  them. 
Xor  is  it  only  under  the  barbaric  Turk  that  this  happens. 
Xotwithstanding  the  boasted  beneficence  of  our  rule  in  India, 
the  extra  burdens  and  restraints  it  involves,  have  the  eff'ect 
that  tlie  people  find  adjacent  countries  preferable:  the  ryots 
in  some  parts  have  been  leaving  their  homes  and  settling  in 
the  territory  of  the  Xizam  and  in  Gwalior. 

Xot  only  do  those  who  are  controlled  suffer  from  political 
organization  evils  which  greatly  deduct  from,  and  sometimes 
exceed,  the  benefits.  Xumerous  and  rigid  goveramental 
restraints  shackle  those  who  impose  them,  as  well  as  those  on 
whom  llicy  arc  imposed.     The  successive  grades  (>(  niliiig 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  253 

agents,  severally  coercing  grades  below,  are  themselves 
coerced  by  grades  above;  and  even  the  highest  ruling  agent 
is  enslaved  by  the  system  created  for  the  preservation  of  his 
supremacy.  In  ancient  Egypt  the  daily  life  of  the  king  was 
minutely  regulated  alike  as  to  its  hours,  its  occupations, 'its 
ceremonies;  so  that,  nominally  all  powerful,  he  was  really  less 
free  than  a  subject.  It  has  been,  and  is,  the  same  with  other 
despotic  monarchs.  Till  lately  in  Japan,  where  the  form  of 
organization  had  become  fixed,  and  where,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest,  the  actions  of  life  were  prescribed  in  detail,  the 
exercise  of  authority  was  so  burdensome  that  voluntarj-  re- 
sigiiation  of  it  was  frequent:  we  read  that  "the  custom 
of  abdication  is  common  among  all  classes,  from  the  Emperor 
down  to  his  meanest  subject."  European  states  have  ex- 
emplified this  re-acting  tyranny.  ''  In  the  Byzantine  palace," 
says  Gibbon,  "  the  Emperor  was  the  first  slave  of  the  cere- 
monies he  imposed."  Concerning  the  tedious  court  life  of 
Louis  XIV.,  Madame  de  Maintenon  remarks — "  Save  those 
only  who  fill  the  highest  stations,  I  know  of  none  more  un- 
fortunate than  those  who  envy  them.  If  you  could  only 
form  an  idea  of  what  it  is!  " 

So  that  while  the  satisfaction  of  men's  wants  is  furthered 
both  by  the  maintenance  of  order  and  by  the  formation  of 
aggregates  large  enough  to  permit  extensive  division  of 
labour,  it  is  hindered  both  by  gTeat  deductions  from  the 
products  of  their  actions,  and  by  the  restraints  imposed  on 
their  actions — usually  in  excess  of  the  needs.  And  political" 
control  indirectly  entails  evils  on  those  who  exercise  it  as  well 
as  on  those  over  whom  it  is  exercised. 

§  444.  The  stones  composing  a  house  cannot  be  otller^^^se 
used  until  the  house  has  been  jnillcd  down.  If  the  stones 
are  united  by  mortar,  there  must  be  extra  trouble  in  destroy- 
ing their  present  ('(niibiiiation  before  they  can  be  re-combined. 
And  if  the  moi-tar  lias  liad  centuries  in  which  to  consolidate, 
tlie  breakiiiii'  up  (,f  the  masses  formed  is  a  matter  of  ^iich 


254  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

difficulty,  that  building  with  hew  materials  becomes  more 
cconoiiiioal  than  rebuilding-  with  the  old. 

I  name  these  facts  to  illustrate  the  truth  that  any  an*ange- 
ment  stands  in  the  way  of  re-arrangement;  and  that  thi^ 
must  be  true  of  organization,  which  is  one  kind  of  arrange- 
ment. When,  during  the  evolution  of  a  living  body,  its  com- 
ponent substance,  at  first  relatively  homogeneous,  has  been 
transformed  into  a  combination  of  heterogeneous  parts,  there 
results  an  obstacle,  always  great  and  often  insuperable,  to 
any  considerable  further  change :  the  more  elaborate  and  defi- 
nite the  structure  the  greater  being  the  resistance  it  opposes 
to  alteration.  And  this,  which  is  conspicuously  true  of  an 
individual  organism,  is  true,  if  less  conspicuously,  of  a  social 
organism.  Though  a  society,  formed  of  discrete  units,  and 
not  having  had  its -type  fixed  by  inheritance  from  countless 
like  societies,  is  much  more  plastic,  yet  the  same  principle 
holds.  As  fast  as  its  parts  are  differentiated — as  fast  as  there 
arise  Glasses,  bodies  of  functionaries,  established  administra- 
tions, these,  becoming  coherent  within  themselves  and  with 
one  another,  struggle  against  such  forces  as  tend  to  modify 
them.  The  conservatism  of  every  long-settled  institution 
daily  exemplifies  this  law.  Be  it  in  the  antagonism  of  a 
church  to  legislation  interfering  with  its  discipline;  be  it  in 
the  opposition  of  an  army  to  abolition  of  the  purchase-system; 
be  it  in  the  disfavour  with  which  the  legal  profession  at 
large  has  regarded  law-reform;  we  see  that  neither  in  their 
structures  nor  in  their  modes  of  action,  are  parts  that  have 
once  been  specialized  easily  changed. 

As  it  is  true  of  a  living  body  that  its  various  acts  have  as 
their  common  end  self-preservation,  so  is  it  true  of  its  com- 
ponent organs  that  they  severally  tend  to  preserve  them- 
selves in  tlieir  integrity.  And,  similarly,  as  it  is  tnie  of  a 
society  fli.iit  iiiiiiiifeiiiiiicc  (if  its  existence  is  tlie  aini  of  its 
combinecl  actions,  so  it  is  trne  of  its  separate  classes,  its  sets 
of  officials,  its  other  specialized  parts,  t'liat  tlie  dominant  aim 
of  each  is  to  niiiiiit;iin  itself.     Xot  the  function  to  be  per- 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  255 

formed,  but  tlie  siistentatioii  of  those  wlio  perform  tbe  func- 
tion, becomes  tbe  object  in  view:  tbe  result  being  tbat  when 
tbe  function  is  needless,  or  even  detrimental,  tbe  structure 
still  keeps  itself  intact  as  long  as  it  can.  In  early  days 
tbe  bistory  of  tbe  Knigbts  Templars  furnisbed  an  illustration 
of  tliis  tendency.  Down  to  tbe  present  time  we  bave  before 
us  tbe  familiar  instance  of  trade-guilds  in  London,  wliicli 
having  ceased  to  perform  their  original  duties,  nevertheless 
jealously  defend  their  possessions  and  privileges.  Tbe  con- 
vention of  Royal  Burghs  in  Scotland,  which  once  regulated 
tbe  internal  municipal  laws,  still  meets  annually  though  it 
has  no  longer  any  work  to  do.  And  the  accounts  given  in 
The  Black  Book  of  tbe  sinecures  which  survived  up  to  recent 
times,  yield  nmltitudinous  illustrations. 

The  extent  to  which  an  organization  resists  re-organization, 
we  shall  not  fully  appreciate  until  we  observe  tbat  its  resist- 
ance increases  in  a  compound  progression.  For  while  each 
new  part  is  an  additional  obstacle  to  change,  tbe  formation  of 
it  involves  a  deduction  from  the  forces  causing  change.  If, 
other  things  remaining  the  same,  the  political  structures  of  a 
society  are  further  developed — if  existing  institutions  are 
extended  or  fresh  ones  set  up — if  for  directing  social  activities 
in  greater  detail,  extra  staffs  of  officials  are  appointed;  the 
simultaneous  results  are — an  increase  in  the  aggregate  of 
those  who  form  tbe  regulating  part,  and  a  corresponding  de- 
crease in  the  aggTegate  of  those  who  form  tbe  part  regulated. 
In  various  ways  all  who  compose  tbe  controlling  and  adminis- 
trative organization,  become  united  with  one  another  and 
separated  from  the  rest.  Whatever  be  their  particular 
duties  they  are  similarly  related  to  the  governing  centres  of 
their  departments,  and,  through  them,  to  tbe  supreme  govern- 
ing centre;  and  are  habituated  to  like  sentiments  and  ideas 
respecting  the  set  of  institutions  in  which  they  are  incorpo- 
rated. Receiving  their  subsistence  through  tbe  national 
revenue,  they  tend  towards  kindred  views  and  feelings  re- 
specting the  raising  uf  such  revenue.     Whatever  jealousies 


256  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

there  may  be  between  their  divisions,  are  over-riddeu  by 
sympathy  when  any  one  division  has  its  existence  or  privi- 
leges endangered;  since  the  interference  with  one  division 
may  spread  to  others.  Moreover,  they  all  stand  in  similar 
relations  to  the  rest  of  the  community,  whose  actions  are  in 
one  way  or  other  superintended  by  them ;  and  hence  are  led 
into  allied  beliefs  respecting  the  need  for  such  superin- 
tendence and  the  propriety  of  submitting  to  it.  No  matter 
what  their  previous  political  opinions  may  have  been,  men 
cannot  become  public  agents  of  any  kind  without  being 
biassed  towards  opinions  congruous  with  their  functions.  So 
that,  inevitably,  each  further  growth  of  the  instrumentalities 
which  control,  or  administer,  or  inspect,  or  in  any  way  direct 
social  forces,  increases  the  impediment  to  future  modifica- 
tions, both  positively  by  strengthening  that  which  has  to  be 
modified,  and  negatively,  by  weakening  the  remainder;  until 
at  length  the  rigidity  becomes  so  great  that  change  is  impos- 
sible and  the  type  becomes  fixed. 

Nor  does  each  further  development  of  political  organiza- 
tion increase  the  obstacles  to  change,  only  by  increasing  the 
power  of  the  regulators  and  decreasing  the  power  of  the 
regulated.  For  the  ideas  and  sentiments  of  a  community  as 
a  wliole,  adapt  themselves  to  the  regime  familiar  from  child- 
hood, in  such  wise  that  it  comes  to  be  looked  upon  as  natural. 
In  proportion  as  public  agencies  occupy  a  larger  space  in 
daily  experience,  leaving  but  a  smaller  space  for  other 
agencies,  there  comes  a  greater  tendency  to  think  of  pulilic 
(control  as  everywhere  needful,  and  a  less  ability  to  conceive 
of  activities  as  otherwise  controlled.  At  the  same  time  the 
sentiments,  adjusted  by  habit  to  the  regulative  machinery, 
become  enlisted  on  its  behalf,  and  adverse  to  the  thought  of 
a  vacancy  to  be  made  by  its  absence.  In  brief,  the  general 
law  that  the  social  organism  and  its  units  act  and  re-act  until 
congruity  is  reached,  implies  that  every  further  extension  of 
political  organization  increases  the  obstacle  to  re-organiza- 
tion, not  only  l)y  adding  to  the  strength  of  the  regulative 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  257 

part,  and  taking  from  the  strength,  of  the  part  regulated, 
but  also  by  producing  in  citizens  thoughts  and  feelings 
in  harmony  with  the  resulting  structure,  and  out  of  har- 
mony with  anything  substantially  different.  Both 
France  and  Germany  exemplify  this  truth.  M.  Comte, 
while  looking  forward  to  ah  industrial  state,  was  so  swayed  by 
the  conceptions  and  lijvings  appropriate  to  the  French  form 
of  society,  that  his  schqpie  of  organization  for  the  ideal 
future,  prescribes  arrangements  characteristic  of  the  militant 
type,  and  utterly  at  variance  with  the  industrial  type.  In- 
deed, he  had  a  profound  aversion  to  that  individualism 
which  is  a  product  of  industrial  life  and  gives  the  character 
to  industrial  institutions.  So,  too,  in  Germany,  we  see  that 
the  socialist  party,  who  are  regarded  and  who  regard  them- 
selves as  wishing  to  re-organize  society  entirely,  are  so  in- 
capable of  really  thinking  away  from  the  social  type  under 
which  they  have  been  nurtured,  that  their  proposed  social 
system  is  in  essence  nothing  else  than  a  new  foiTQ  of  the 
system  they  would  destroy.  It  is  a  system  under  which  life 
and  labour  are  to  be  arranged  and  superintended  by  public 
instrumentalities,  omnipresent  like  those  which  already  exist 
and  no  less  coercive:  the  individual  having  his  life  even 
more  regulated  for  him  than  now. 

While,  then,  the  absence  of  settled  arrangements  negatives 
cooperation,  yet  cooperation  of  a  higher  kind  is  hindered  by 
the  arrangements  which  facilitate  cooperation  of  a  lower 
kind.  Though  without  established  connexions  among  parts, 
there  can  be  no  combined  actions;  yet  the  more  extensive 
and  elaborate  such  connexions  grow,  the  more  difficult  does  it 
become  to  make  improved  combinations  of  actions.  There  is 
an  increase  of  the  forces  which  tend  to  fix,  and  a  decrease  of 
the  forces  which  tend  to  unfix;  until  the  fully-stiiictured 
social  organism,  like  the  fully-structured  individual  organ- 
ism, becomes  no  longer  adaptable. 

§  445.  In  a  living  animal,  fonned  as  it  is  of  aggregated 


258  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

units  originally  like  in  kind,  the  progress  of  organization  im- 
plies, not  only  that  the  units  composing  each  diiferentiated 
part  severally  maintain  their  positions,  but  also  that  their 
progeny  succeed  to  those  positions.  Bile-cells  which,  while 
performing  their  functions,  grow  and  give  origin  to  new  bile- 
cells,  are,  when  they  decay  and  disappear,  replaced  by  these : 
the  cells  descending  from  them  do  not  migrate  to  the  kid- 
neys, or  the  muscles,  or  the  nervqjis  centres,  to  join  in  the 
perfonnance  of  their  duties.  And,  evidently,  uidess  the 
specialized  units  each  organ  is  made  of,  produced  units  simi- 
larly specialized,  which  remained  in  the  same  place,  there 
could  be  none  of  those  settled  relations  among  parts  which 
characterize  the  organism,  and  lit  it  for  its  particular  mode  of 
life. 

In  a  society  also,  establishment  of  structure  is  favoured  by 
the  transmission  of  positions  and  functions  through  successive 
generations.  The  maintenance  of  those  class-divisions  which 
arise  as  political  organization  advances,  implies  the  inherit- 
ance of  a  rank  and  a  place  in  each  class.  The  like  happens 
with  those  sub-divisions  of  classes  which,  in  some  societies, 
constitute  castes,  and  in  other  societies  are  exemplified  by  in- 
corporated trades.  Where  custom  or  law  com})els  the  sons  of 
each  worker  to  follow  their  father's  occupation,  there  result 
among  the  industrial  structures  obstacles  to  change  analogous 
to  those  which  result  in  the  regulative  structures  from  im- 
passable divisions  of  ranks.  Tiulia  shows  this  in  an  extreme 
degree;  and  in  a  less  degree  it  was  sliown  l)v  tlie  craft-guilds 
of  early  days  in  England,  which  facilitated  ad()])tioU  of  a  craft 
by  the  children  of  those  engaged  in  it,  and  hindered  adojition 
of  it  by  others.  Thus  we  may  call  inheritancc.df  position  and 
function,  the  princijjle  of  fixity  in  social  organization. 

There  is  another  way  in  which  succession  by  inheritance, 
whether  to  class-position  or  to  occupation,  conduces  to 
stability.  It  secures  supremacy  of  the  elder;  and  supremacy 
of  the  elder  tends  towards  maintenance  of  the  established 
order.    A  system  nndcrwhicli  a  cliicf-rnlcr,  siil>  ruler,  head  of 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  259 

clan  or  house,  official,  or  any  person  liaving  the  power  given 
by  rank  or  property,  retains  his  place  until  at  death  it  is  filled 
by  a  descendant,  in  conformity  with  some  accepted  rule  of 
succession,  is  a  system  under  w^hich,  by  implication,  the 
young,  and  even  the  middle-aged,  are  excluded  from  the  con- 
duct of  affairs.  So,  too,  where  an  industrial  system  is  such 
that  the  son,  habitually  brought  up  to  his  father's  business, 
cannot  hold  a  master's  position  till  his  father  dies,  it  follows 
that  the  regulative  power  of  the  elder  over  the  processes  of 
production  and  distribution,  is  scarcely  at  all  qualified  by  the 
power  of  the  younger,  Xow  it  is  a  truth  daily  exemplified, 
that  increasing  rigidity  of  organization,  necessitated  by  the 
process  of  evolution,  produces  in  age  an  increasing  strength 
of  habit  and  aversion  to  change.  Hence  it  results  that  suc- 
cession to  place  and  function  by  inheritance,  having  as  its 
necessary  concomitant  a  monopoly  of  power  by  the  eldest, 
involves  a  prevailing  conservatism ;  and  thus  further  insures 
maintenance  of  things  as  they  are. 

Conversely,  social  change  is  facile  in  proportion  as  men's 
places  and  functions  are  determinable  by  personal  qualities. 
Members  of  one  rank  who  establish  themselves  in  another 
rank,  in  so  far  directly  break  the  division  between  the  ranks; 
and  they  indirectly  weaken  it  by  preserving  their  family 
relations  with  the  first,  and  forming  new  ones  with  the 
second;  while,  further,  the  ideas  and  sentiments  pervading 
the  two  ranks,  previously  more  or  less  different,  are  made 
to  qualify  one  another  and  to  work  changes  of  character. 
Similarly  if,  between  sub-divisions  of  the  producing  and  dis- 
tributing classes,  there  are  no  barriers  to  migration,  then,  in 
proportion  as  migrations  are  numerous,  influences  physical 
and  mental  following  inter-fusion,  alter  the  natures  of  their 
units ;  at  the  same  time  that  they  check  the  establishment  of 
differences  of  nature  caused  by  differences  of  occupation. 
Such  transpositions  of  individuals  between  class  and  class,  or 
group  and  group,  must,  on  the  average,  however,  depend  on 
the  fitnesses  of  the  individuals  for  their  new  places  and  duties. 


260  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Intrusions  will  ordinarily  snccced  only  where  the  intruding 
citizens  have  more  than  usual  aptitudes  for  the  businesses 
they  undertake.  Those  who  desert  their  original  functions, 
are  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  competition  with  those  whose 
functions  they  assume;  and  they  can  overcome  this  disad- 
vantage only  by  force  of  some  superiority :  must  do  the  new 
thing  better  than  those  born  to  it,  and  so  tend  to  improve 
the  doing  of  it  by  their  example.  This  leaving  of  men  to 
have  their  careers  determined  by  their  ethciencies,  we  may 
therefore  call  the  principle  of  change  in  social  organization. 

As  we  saw  that  succession  by  inlieritance  conduces  in  a 
secondar}''  way  to  stability,  by  keeping  authority  in  the  hands 
of  those  who  by  age  are  made  most  averse  to  new  practices, 
so  here,  conversely,  w-e  may  see  that  succession  by  efficiency 
conduces  in  a  secondary  way  to  change.  Both  positively  and 
negatively  the  possession  of  jjower  by  the  young  facilitates 
innovation.  While  the  energies  are  overflowing,  little  fear  is 
felt  of  those  obstacles  to  improvement  and  evils  it  may  bring, 
w^hich,  when  energies  are  failing,  look  formidable;  and  at  the 
same  time  the  greater  imaginativeness  that  goes  along  with 
higher  vitality,  joined  with  a  smaller  strength  of  habit,  facili- 
tates .acceptance  of  fresh  ideas  and  adoption  of  untried 
methods.  Since,  then,  where  the  various  social  positions  come 
to  be  respectively  filled  by  those  who  are  experimentally 
proved  to  be  the  fittest,  the  relatively  young  are  permitted  to 
exercise  authority,  it  results  that  succession  by  efficiency 
furthers  change  in  social  organization,  indirectly  as  well  as 
directly. 

Contrasting  the  two,  we  thus  see  that  while  the  acquire- 
ment of  function  by  inheritance  conduces  to  rigidity  of  struc- 
ture, the  acquirement  of  function  by  efficiency  conduces  to 
plasticity  of  structure.  Succession  by  descent  favours  the 
maintenance  of  that  which  exists.  Succession  by  fitness 
favours  transformation,  and  makes  possible  something  better. 

§  446.  As  was  jjointed  out  in  §  228,  "  complication  of 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  261 

structure  accompanies  increase  of  mass,"  in  social  organisms 
as  in  individual  organisms.  When  small  societies  are  com- 
pounded into  a  larger  society,  the  controlling  agencies  needed 
in  the  several  component  societies  must  be  subordinated  to  a 
central  controlling  agency :  new  structures  are  required.  Re- 
compounding  necessitates  a  kindred  further  complexity  in 
the  governmental  arrangements;  and  at  each  of  such  stages 
of  increase,  all  other  arrangements  must  become  more  com- 
plicated. As  Duruy  remarks — "  By  becoming  a  world  in 
place  of  a  town,  Rome  could  not  conser\'e  institutions  esta- 
blished for  a  single  city  and  a  small  territory.  .  .  .  How 
was  it  possible  for  sixty  millions  of  provincials  to  enter  the 
narrow  and  rigid  circle  of  municipal  institutions?  "  The  like 
holds  where,  instead  of  extension  of  territory,  there  is  only 
increase  of  population.  The  contrast  between  the  simple 
administrative  system  which  sufficed  in  old  English  times 
for  a  million  people,  and  the  complex  administrative  system 
at  present  needed  for  many  millions,  sufficiently  indicates 
this  general  truth. 

But  now,  mark  a  corollary.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  further 
growth  implies  more  complex  structure,  on  the  other  hand, 
changeableness  of  structure  is  a  condition  to  further  growth ; 
and,  conversely,  unchangeableness  of  structure  is  a  concomi- 
tant of  arrested  growth.  Like  the  correlative  law  just  noted, 
this  law  is  clearly  seen  in  individual  organisms.  Necessarily, 
transition  from  the  small  immature  form  to  the  large 
mature  form  in  a  living  creature,  implies  that  all  the  parts 
have  to  be  changed  in  their  sizes  and  connexions  ^  every 
detail  of  every  organ  has  to  be  modified;  and  this  implies 
the  retention  of  plasticity.  Necessarily,  also,  when,  on 
approaching  maturity,  the  organs  are  assuming  their  final 
arrangement,  their  increasing  definiteness  and  firmness  con- 
stitute an  increasing  impediment  to  gTowth :  the  un-building 
and  re-building  required  before  there  can  be  re-adjustment, 
become  more  and  more  difficult.  So  is  it  with  a  society. 
Augmentation  of  its  mass  necessitates  change  of  the  pre- 


262  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

existing  structures,  either  bv  incorporation  of  the  increment 
with  them,  or  by  their  extension  through  it.  Every  furtlier 
elaboration  of  the  arrangements  entails  an  additional  obstacle 
to  this;  and  when  rigidity  is  reached,  such  modifications  of 
them  as  increase  of  mass  would  involve,  are  impossible,  and 
increase  is  prevented. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Controlling  and  administrative  instru- 
mentalities antagonize  growth  by  absorbing  the  materials  for 
growth.  Already  when  pointing  out  the  evils  which  accom- 
pany the  benefits  gained  by  political  organization,  this  effect 
has  been  indirectly  implied.  Governmental  expenditure, 
there  represented  as  deducting  from  the  lives  of  producers 
by  taking  away  their  produce,  has  for  its  ultei'ior  result  de- 
ducting from  the  life  of  the  community:  depletion  of  the 
units  entails  depletion  of  the  aggregate,  AVhere  the  abstrac- 
tion of  private  means  for  public  purposes  is  excessive,  the 
impoverishment  leads  to  decrease  of  population;  and  where 
it  is  less  excessive,  to  arrest  of  })opulation.  Clearly  those 
members  of  a  society  who  form  the  regulative  parts,  together 
with  all  their  dependents,  have  to  be  supplied  with  the  means 
of  living  by  the  parts  which  carry  on  the  processes  of  pro- 
duction and  distribution ;  and  if  the  regulative  parts  go  on 
increasing  relatively  to  the  other  parts,  there  must  eventually 
be  reached  a  point  at  Avhich  they  absorb  the  entire  surplus, 
and  multiplication  is  stopped  by  innutrition. 

Hence  a  significant  relation  between  the  structure  of  a 
society  and  its  growth.  Organization  in  excess  of  need,  pre- 
vents the  attainment  of  that  larger  size  and  accompanying 
higher  type  which  might  else  have  arisen. 

§  447.  To  aid  our  interpretations  of  the  special  facts 
presently  to  be  dealt  with,  we  must  keep  in  mind  tlio  fore- 
going general  facts.  They  may  be  suniinc'l  u|»  as  {'<<]- 
lows : — 

Cooperation  is  made  possiljle  by  society,  iiii<l  makes  society 


POLITICAL  ORGANIZATION  IN  GENERAL.  2C3 

possible.  It  pre-siipposes  associated  men;  and  men  remain 
associated  because  of  the  benefits  cooperation  yields  them. 

But  there  cannot  be  concerted  actions  without  agencies  by 
which  actions  are  adjusted  in  their  times,  amounts,  and  kinds; 
and  the  actions  cannot  be  of  various  kinds  without  the  co- 
operators  undertaking  different  duties.  That  is  to  say,  the 
cooperators  must  become  organized,  either  voluntarily  or 
involuntarily. 

The  organization  which  cooperation  implies,  is  of  two 
kinds,  distinct  in  origin  and  nature.  The  one,  arising  directly 
from  the  pursuit  of  individual  ends,  and  indirectly  conducing 
to  social  welfare,  develops  unconsciously  and  is  non-coercive. 
The  other,  arising  directly  from  the  pursuit  of  social  ends, 
and  indirectly  conducing  to  individual  welfare,  develops 
consciously  and  is  coercive. 

While,  by  making  cooperation  possible,  political  organiza- 
tion achieves  benefits,  deductions  from  these  benefits  are 
entailed  by  the  organization.  Maintenance  of  it  is  costly; 
and  the  cost  may  become  a  greater  evil  than  the  evils  escaped. 
It  necessarily  imposes  restraints;  and  these  restraints  may 
become  so  extreme  that  anarchy,  with  all  its  miseries,  is 
preferable. 

An  established  organization  is  an  obstacle  to  re-organiza- 
tion. Self-sustentation  is  the  primary  aim  of  each  part  as  of 
the  whole;  and  hence  parts  once  formed  tend  to  continue, 
whether  they  are  or  are  not  useful.  Moreover,  each  addition 
to  the  regulative  structures,  implying,  other  things  equal,  a 
simultaneous  deduction  from  the  rest  of  the  society  which 
is  regulated,  it  results  that  while  the  obstacles  to  change 
are  increased,  the  forces  causing  change  are  decreased. 

Maintenance  of  a  society's  organization  implies  that  the 
units  forming  its  component  structures  shall  severally  be  re- 
placed as  they  die.  Stability  is  favoured  if  the  vacancies 
they  leave  are  filled  without  dispute  by  descendants;  while 
change  is  favoured  if  the  A'acancies  are  filled  bv  those  who 


2(U  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

are  experimentally  proved  to  be  best  fitted  for  thoiu.  Suc- 
cession by  inheritance  is  tlms  the  principle  of  social  rigidifey; 
while  succession  by  eilicieucy  is  the  principle  of  social 
plasticity. 

Though,  to  make  cooperation  possible,  and  therefore  to 
facilitate  social  growth,  there  must  be  organization,  yet  the 
organization  formed  impedes  further  growth ;  since  further 
growth  implies  re-organization,  which  the  existing  organiza- 
tion resists;  and  since  the  existing  organization  absorbs.part 
of  the  material  for  growth. 

So  that  while,  at  each  stage,  better  immediate  results  may 
be  achieved  by  completing  organization,  they  must  be  at  the 
expense  of  better  ultimate  results. 


CH-APTER  III. 

POLITICAL    INTEGEATIOX. 

§  448.  The  analogy  between  individual  organisms  and 
social  ol'ganisms,  which  holds  in  so  many  respects,  holds  in 
respect  to  the  actions  which  cause  growth.  We  shall  find  it 
instructive  to  glance  at  political  integration  in  the  light  of 
this  analogy. 

Every  animal  sustains  itself  and  grows  by  incorporating 
either  the  materials  composing  other  animals  or  those  com- 
posing plants;  and  from  microscopic  protozoa  upwards,  it  has 
been  through  success  in  the  struggle  thus  to  incorporate,  that 
animals  of  the  greatest  sizes  and  highest  structures  have  been 
evolved.  This  process  is  carried  on  by  creatures  of  the  lowest 
kinds  in  a  purely  physical  or  insentient  way.  Without 
nervous  system  or  fixed  distribution  of  parts,  the  rhizopod 
draws  in  fragments  of  nutritive  matter  by  actions  which  we 
are  obliged  to  regard  as  unconscious.  So  is  it,  too,  with 
simple  aggregates  formed  by  the  massing  of  such  minute 
creatures.  The  sponge,  for  example,  in  that  framework  of 
fibres  familiar  to  us  in  its  dead  state,  holds  together,  when 
living,  a  multitude  of  separate  monads;  and  the  activities 
wliich  go  on  in  the  sponge,  are  such  as  directly  further  the 
separate  lives  of  these  monads,  and  indirectly  further  the 
life  of  the  whole:  the  whole  having  neither  sentiency  nor 
power  of  movement.    At  a  higher  stage,  however,  the  process 

•  of  taking  in  nutritive  materials  by  a  composite  organism, 

265 


266  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

comes  to  be  carried  on  in  a  sentient  way,  and  in  a  way 
differing  from  the  primitive  way  in  this,  that  it  directly 
furthers  the  life  of  the  whole,  and  indirectly  further  the 
lives  of  thfe  component  units.  Eventually,  the  well-consoli- 
dated and  organized  aggregate,  which  originally  had  no  other 
life  than  was  constituted  by  the  separate  lives  of  these 
minute  creatures  massed  together,  acquires  a  corporate  life 
predominating  over  their  lives ;  and  also  acquires  desires  by 
which  its  activities  are  guided  to  acts  of  incorporation.  To 
which  adds  the  obvious  corollary  that  as,  in  the  course  of 
evolution,  its  size  increases,  it  incorporates  with  itself  larger 
and  larger  aggregates  as  prey. 

Analogous  stages  may  be  traced  in  the  growth  of  social 
organisms,  and  in  the  accompanying  forms  of  action.  At  first 
there  is  no  other  life  in  the  group  than  that  seen  in  the  lives 
of  its  members;  and  only  as  organization  increases  does  the 
group  as  a  whole  come  to  have  that  joint  life  constituted 
by  mutually-dependent  actions.  The  members  of  a  primi- 
tive horde,  loosely  aggregated,  and  without  distinctions  of 
power,  cooperate  for  immediate  furtherance  of  individual 
sustentation,  and  in  a  comparatively  small  degree  for  corpo- 
rate sustentation.  Even  Avhen,  the  interests  of  all  being 
simultaneously  endangered,  they  simultaneously  fight,  they 
still  fight  separately — their  actions  are  uncoordinated;  and 
the  only  spoils  of  successful  battle  are  such  as  can  be  indi- 
vidually appropriated.  But  in  the  course  of  the  struggles  for 
existence  between  groups  thus  unorganized,  tliere  comes,  with 
the  development  of  such  j)olili('al  organizatifin  as  gives  tribal 
individuality,  the  struggle  to  incoqwrate  one  another,  first 
partially  and  then  wholly.  Tribes  which  are  larger,  or  better 
organized,  or  both,  conquer  adjacent  tribes  and  annex  them, 
so  that  they  form  parts  of  a  compound  whole.  And  as 
political  evolution  advances,  it  becomes  a  trait  of  the  larger 
and  stronger  societies  that  they  acquire  appetites  prompting 
them  to  subjugate  and  incorporate  weaker  societies. 

Full  perception  of  this  difference  will  be  gained  on  looking ' 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  2G7 

more  closely  at  the  contrast  between  the  wars  of  small  groups 
and  those  of  large  nations.  As,  even  among  dogs,  the  fights 
tliat  arise  between  individuals  when  one  attempts  to  take 
another's  food,  grow  into  fights  between  packs  if  one  tres- 
passes upon  the  feeding  haunts  of  another  (as  is  seen  in 
Constantinople);  so  among  primitive  men,  individual  con- 
tiicts  for  food  pass  inlo  conflicts  between  hordes,  when,  in 
pursuit  of  food,  one  encroaches  on  another's  territory.  After 
the  pastoral  state  is  reached,  such  motives  continue  with  a 
difference.  ''  Retaliation  for  past  robberies,"  is  the  habitual 
plea  for  war  among  the  Bechuanas:  ''  their  real  object  being 
always  the  acquisition  of  cattle."  Similarly  among  European 
peoples  in  ancient  days.  Achilles  says  of  the  Trojans — 
"  They  are  blameless  as  respects  me,  since  they  have  never 
driven  away  my  oxen,  nor  m}'  horses."  And  the  fact  that  in 
Scotland  during  early  times,  cattle-raids  were  habitual  causes 
of  inter-tribal  fights,  shows  us  how  persistent  have  been  these 
struggles  for  the  means  of  individual  sustentation.  Even 
where  the  life  is  agricultural,  the  like  happens  at  the  outset. 
"  A  field  or  a  farrow's  breadth  of  land  is  disputed  upon  the 
border  of  a  district,  and  gives  rise  to  rustic  strife  between  the 
parties  and  their  respective  hamlets,"  says  Macpherson  of  the 
Ivhonds;  and  '"  should  the  tribes  to  which  the  disputants 
belong  be  disposed  to  hostility,  they  speedily  embrace  the 
quarrel."  So  that  competition  in  social  growth  is  still  re- 
stricted to  competition  for  the  means  to  that  personal  welfare 
indirectly  conducive  to  social  growth. 

In  yet  another  way  do  we  see  exemplified  this  general 
truth.  The  furthering  of  growth  by  that  which  furthers  the 
uuihiplication  of  units,  is  shown  us  in  the  stealing  of 
women — a  second  cause  of  ])rimitive  war.  Men  of  one  tribe 
wlio  abduct  the  women  of  another,  not  only  by  so  doing 
directly  increase  the  number  of  their  own  tribe,  but,  in  a 
greater  degree,  indirectly  conduce  to  its  increase  by  after- 
wards adding  to  the  number  of  children.  In  which  mode  of 
growing  at  one  another's  expense,  common  among  existing 


208  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tribes  of  savages,  and  once  common  among  tribes  from  whicli 
civilized  nations  have  descended,  we  still  see  the  same  trait: 
any  augmentation  of  the  group  which  takes  place,  is  an  indi- 
rect result  of  individual  appropriations  and  reproductions. 

Contrariwise,  in  more  advanced  stages  the  struggle  between 
societies  is,  not  to  appropriate  one  another's  means  of  sus- 
tentation  and  iiiuhii)lic'atioii,  but  to  appropriate  one  another 
bodily.  Which  society  shall  incorporate  other  societies  with 
itself,  becomes  the  question.  Under  one  aspect,  the  history 
of  large  nations  is  a  history  of  successes  in  such  struggles; 
and  down  to  our  own  day  nations  are  being  thus  enlarged. 
Part  of  Italy  is  incorporated  by  France;  part  of  France  is 
incorporated  by  Germany ;  part  of  Turkey  is  incorporated  by 
Russia;  and  between  Russia  and  England  there  appears  to 
be  a  competition  which  shall  increase  most  by  absorbing 
uncivilized  and  semi-civilized  peoples. 

Thus,  then,  with  social  organisms  as  with  individual 
organisms,  it  is  through  the  struggle  for  existence,  first,  by 
appropriating  one  another's  means  of  growth,  and  then  by 
devouring  one  another,  that  there  arise  those  great  aggre- 
gates which  at  once  make  possible  high  organization,  and 
require  high  organization. 

§  449.  Political  integration  is  in  some  cases  furthered,  and 
in  other  cases  hindered,  by  conditions,  external  and  internal. 
There  are  the  characters  of  the  environment,  and  there  are 
the  characters  of  the  men  composing  the  society.  We  will 
glance  at  them  in  this  order. 

How  political  integration  is  prevented  by  an  inclemency 
of  climate,  or  an  infertility  of  soil,  which  keeps  down  popu- 
lation, was  shown  in  §§  14 — 21.  To  the  instances  there 
named  may  be  added  that  of  the  Seminoles,  who  "  being  so 
tliinly  scattered  over  a  barren  desert,  they  seldom  assemble 
to  take  black  drink,  or  deliberate  on  public  matters;  "  and, 
again,  that  of  certain  Snake  Indians,  of  whom  Schoolcraft 
says,  "  the  paucity  of  game  in  this  region  is,  I  have  little 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  269 

doubt,  the  cause  of  the  ahiiost  entire  absence  of  social  organi- 
zation." We  saw,  too,  that  great  uniformity  of  surface,  of 
mineral  products,  of  flora,  of  fauna,  are  impediments;  and 
that  on  the  special  characters  of  the  flora  and  fauna,  as  con- 
taining species  favourable  or  unfavourable  to  human  welfare, 
in  part  depends  the  individual  prosperity  required  for  social 
growth.  It  was  also  pointed  out  that  structure  of  the 

habitat,  as  facilitating  or  impeding  communication,  and  as 
rendering  escape  easy  or  hard,  has  much  to  do  with  the  size 
of  the  social  aggregate  formed.  To  the  illustrations  before 
given,  showing  that  mountain-haunting  peoples  and  peoples 
living  in  deserts  and  marshes  are  difficult  to  consolidate, 
while  peoples  penned  in  by  barriers  are  consolidated  with 
facility,  I  may  here  add  two  significant  ones  not  before 
noticed.  One  occurs  in  the  Polynesian  islands — Tahiti, 
Hawaii,  Tonga,  Samoa,  and  the  rest — where,  restrained 
within  limits  by  surrounding  seas,  the  inhabitants  have 
become  united  more  or  less  closely  into  aggregates  of  con- 
siderable sizes.  The  other  is  furnished  by  ancient  Peru, 
where,  before  the  time  of  the  Yncas,  semi-civilized  com- 
munities had  been  formed  in  valleys  separated  from  each 
other  "  on  the  coast,  by  hot,  and  almost  impassable  deserts, 
and  in  the  interior  by  lofty  mountains,  or  cold  and  trackless 
punas."  And  to  the  ini[)lied  inability  of  these  peoples  to 
escape  governmental  coercion,  thus  indicated  by  Scjuier  as  a 
factor  in  their  civilization,  is  ascribed,  by  the  ancient  Spanish 
writer  Cieza,  the  difference  between  thoin  and  the  neighbour- 
ing Indians  of  Popoyan,  who  ccjuld  retreat,  "  whenever  at- 
tacked, to  other  fertile  regions."  How,  conversely, 
the  massing  of  men  together  is  furthered  by  ease  of  internal 
communication  witliin  the  area  occupied,  is  sufficiently 
manifest.  The  importance  of  it  is  implied  by  the  remark  of 
Grant  concerning  Equatorial  Africa,  that  "  no  jurisdiction 
extends  over  a  district  which  cannot  be  crossed  in  three  or 
four  days."  And  such  facts,  implying  that  political  integra- 
tion may  increase  as  the  means  of  going  from  place  to  place 


270  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

become  better,  rcmiud  us  how,  from  Roman  times  down- 
Avards,  the  formation  of  roads  lias  made  larger  social  aggre- 
gates possible. 

Evidence  that  a  certain  type  of  physique  is  recjuislte,  was 
given  in  §  16;  where  we  saw  that  the  races  which  have 
evolved  large  societies,  had  previously  lived  under  conditions 
fostering  vigour  of  constitution.  I  will  here  add  only  that 
the  constitutional  energy  needed  for  continuous  labour,  with- 
out which  there  cannot  be  civilized  life  and  the  massing  of 
men  presupposed  by  it,  is  an  energy  not  to  be  quickly 
ac([uired;  but  is  to  be  acquired  only  by  inherited  modilica- 
tions  slowly  accumulated.  Good  evidence  that  in  lower 
types  of  men  there  is  a  physical  incapacity  for  work,  is 
supplied  by  the  results  of  the  Jesuit  government  over  the 
Paraguay  Indians.  There  Indians  were  reduced  to  indus- 
trious habits,  and  to  an  orderly  life  which  was  thought  by 
many  writers  admirable;  but  there  eventually  resulted  a 
fatal  evil:  they  became  infertile.  ]^ot  im]:)robably,  the 
infertility  commonly  observed  in  savage  races  that  have  been 
led  into  civilized  activities,  is  consequent  on  taxing  the 
physicjue  to  a  degree  greater  than  it  is  constituted  to  bear. 

Certain  moral  traits  which  favour,  and  others  which  hinder, 
the  union  of  men  into  large  groups,  were  pointed  out  when 
ti'cating  of  "  The  Primitive  Man — Emotional."  Here  I  will 
re-ilhistrate  such  of  these  as  concern  the  litness  or  until ness 
of  the  type  for  subordination.  ''  The  Abors,  as  they  them- 
selves say,  are  like  tigers,  two  cannot  dwell  in  one  den;  "  and 
"  their  houses  are  scattered  singly,  or  in  groups  of  two  and 
three."  Conversely,  some  of  the  African  races  not  only  yield 
when  coerced  but  admire  one  who  coerces  them.  Instance 
the  Damaras,  who,  as  Galton  says,  "  court  slavery  "  and 
"  follow  a  master  as  spaniels  would."  The  like  is  alleged  of 
other  South  Africans.  One  of  them  said  to  a  gentleman 
known  to  me — "  You're  a  pretty  fellow  to  be  a  master;  I've 
been  with  you  two  years  and  you've  never  beaten  me  once." 
Obviously  on  the  dispositions  thus  strongly  contrasted,  the 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  271 

impossibility  or  possibility  of  political  integration  largely 
depends.  There  must  be  added,  as  also  iuliuential,  the 

presence  or  the  absence  of  the  nomadic  instinct.  Varieties 
of  men  whose  wandering  habits  have  been  unchecked  during 
countless  generations  of  hunting  life  and  pastoral  life,  show 
us  that  even  when  forced  into  agricultural  life,  their  tendency 
to  move  about  greatly  hinders  aggregation.  It  is  thus  among 
the  hill-tribes  of  India.  "  The  Kookies  are  naturally  a  mi- 
gratory race,  never  occupying  the  same  place  for  more  than 
two  or,  at  the  utmost,  three  years;  "  and  the  like  holds  of  the 
Mishmees,  who  ''  never  name  their  villages:  "  the  existence 
of  them  being  too  transitory.  In  some  races  this  migratory 
instinct  survives  and  shows  its  effects,  even  after  the  forma- 
tion of  populous  towns.  AVriting  of  the  Bachassins  in  1812, 
Burchell  says  that  Litakun,  containing  15,000  inhabitants, 
had  been  twice  removed  during  a  period  of  ten  years. 
Clearly,  peoples  thus  characterized  are  less  easily  united  into 
large  societies  than  peoples  who  love  their  early  homes. 

Concerning  the  intellectual  traits  which  aid  or  impede  the 
cohesion  of  men  into  masses,  I  may  supplement  what  was 
said  when  delineating  "  The  Primitive  Man — Intellectual," 
by  two  corollaries  of  much  significance.  Social  life  being 
cooperative  life,  presupposes  not  only  an  emotional  nature 
fitted  for  cooperation,  but  also  such  intelligence  as  perceives 
the  benefits  of  cooperation,  and  can  so  regulate  actions  as  to 
effect  it.  The  unreflectiveness,  the  deficient  consciousness  of 
causation,  and  the  lack  of  constructive  imagination,  shown  by 
the  uncivilized,  hinder  combined  action  to  a  degree  difficult 
to  believe  until  proof  is  seen.  Even  the  semi-civilized  exhibit 
in  quite  simple  matters  an  absence  of  concert  which  is 
astonishing.*  Implying,  as  this  does,  that  cooperation  can 
*  The  behaviour  of  Arab  boatmen  on  the  Nile  displays,  in  a  strikine:  ^^7, 
this  inability  to  act  toc:('ther.  When  jointly  hauliTig  at  a  rope,  and  beijin- 
ningto  chant,  the  inference  one  draws  is  that  they  pull  in  time  with  their 
words.  On  observing,  however,  it  turns  out  that  their  efforts  are  not  com- 
l)ined  at  given  intervals,  but  are  put  forth  without  any  unity  of  rhythm. 
Similarly  when  using  their  poles  to  push  the  dahabeiah  off  a  sand-bank,  the 
7G 


272  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

at  lirst  be  effective  oiilv  where  there  is  obedience  to  peremp- 
tory coiumaiid,  it  follows  that  there  must  be  not  only  an 
emotional  nature  which  produces  subordination,  but  also  an 
intellectual  nature  which  produces  faith  in  a  commander. 
That  credulity  which  leads  to  awe  of  the  capable  man  as  a  pos- 
sessor of  supernatural  power,  and  which  afterwards,  causing 
dread  of  his  ghost,  prompts  fuliilment  of  his  remembered 
injunctions — that  credulity  which  initiates  the  religious  con- 
trol of  a  deified  chief,  re-inforcing  the  political  control  of  his 
divine  descendant,  is  a  credulity  which  cannot  be  dispensed 
with  during  early  stages  of  integration.  Scepticism  is  fatal 
while  the  character,  moral  and  intellectual,  is  such  as  to 
necessitate  compulsory  cooperation. 

Political  integration,  then,  hindered  in  many  regions  by 
environing  conditions,  has  in  many  races  of  mankind  been 
jDrevented  from  advancing  far  by  unfitnesses  of  nature — 
physical,  moral,  and  intellectual. 

§  450.  Besides  fitness  of  nature  in  the  united  individuals, 
social  union  requires  a  considerable  homogeneity  of  nature 
among  them.  At  the  outset  this  needful  likeness  of  kind  is 
insured  by  greater  or  less  kinship  in  blood.  Evidence  meets 
us  every^vhere  among  the  uncivilized.  Of  the  Bushmen, 
Liohtenstein  says,  "  families  alone  form  associations  in  single 
small  hordes — sexual  feelings,  the  instinctive  love  to  children, 
or  the  customary  attachment  among  relations,  are  the  only 
ties  that  keep  thoin  in  any  sort  of  union."  Again,  "  the 
Rock  Veddahs  are  divided  into  small  clans  or  families  asso- 
ciated for  rclntionshi]!,  who  agree  in  partitioning  the  forest 

succession  of  pruiits  they  severally  innke.  is  so  rapid  tliat  it  is  manifestly 
impossible  for  tliem  to  give  those  efFeetiial  united  pushes  which  imply 
appreciable  intervals  of  preparation.  Still  more  striking  is  the  want  of  con- 
cert shown  by  the  hundred  or  more  Nubians  and  Arabs  employed  to  drag 
the  vessel  up  the  rapids.  There  are  shout iiips,  {jestieulat ions,  divided  ac- 
tions, utter  confusion ;  so  that  only  by  accident  does  it  at  lenpth  happen 
that  a  sufTicient  number  of  efforts  are  put  forth  at  the  same  moment.  As 
was  said  to  me,  with  some  exaggeration,  by  our  Arab  dragoman,  a  travelled 
man — "Ten  Englishmen  or  Frenchmen  would  do  the  thing  at  once." 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  273 

among  themselves  for  hunting  grounds."  And  this  rise  of 
,  the  society  out  of  the  family,  seen  in  these  least  organized 
groups,  re-a})pears  in  the  considerably  organized  groups  of 
more  advanced  savages.  Instance  the  Xew  Zealanders,  of 
v'liom  we  read  that  "  eighteen  historical  nations  occupy  the 
country,  each  being  sub-divided  into  many  tribes,  originally 
families,  as  the  prefix  Ngati,  signifying  oH'spring  (ec^uivalent 
to  O  or  Mac)  obviously  indicates."  This  connexion  between 
blood  relationship  and  social  union  is  well  shown  by 
Humboldt's  remarks  concerning  South  American  Indians. 
"  Savages,"  he  says,  '"  know  only  their  own  family,  and  a 
tribe  appears  to  them  but  a  more  numerous  assemblage  of  rela- 
tions." When  Indians  who  inhabit  the  missions  see  those  of 
the  forest,  who  are  unknown  to  them,  they  say — "  They  are 
no  doubt  my  relations;  I  understand  them  when  they  speak 
to  me."  But  these  same  savages  detest  all  who  are  not  of 
their  tribe.  "  They  know  the  duties  of  family  ties  and  of 
relationship,  but  not  those  of  humanity." 

When  treating  of  the  domestic  relations,  reasons  were 
given  for  concluding  that  social  stability  increases  as  kinships 
become  more  definite  and  extended;  since  development  of 
kinships,  while  insuring  the  likeness  of  nature  which  furthers 
cooperation,  involves  the  strengthening  and  multiplication 
of  those  family  bonds  which  check  disruption.  AVhere  pro- 
miscuity is  prevalent,  or  wdiere  marriages  are  temporary,  the 
known  relationshi})s  are  relatively  few  and  not  close;  and 
there  is  little  more  social  cohesion  than  results  from  habit 
and  vague  sense  of  kinship.  Polyandry,  especially  of  the 
higher  kind,  produces  relationships  of  some  definiteness, 
which  admit  of  being  traced  further:  so  serving  better  to  tie 
the  social  group  togetlier.  And  a  gTcater  advance  in  the 
nearness  and  the  number  of  family  connexions  results  from 
polygyny.  But,  as  was  shown,  it  is  from  monogamy  that 
there  arise  family  connexions  wdiicli  are  at  once  the  most 
definite  and  the  most  wide-spreading  in  their  ramifications; 
and  out  of  monogamic  families  are  developed  the  largest  and 


274  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

most  coherent  societies.  In  two  allied,  vet  distinguishable, 
"ways,  does  monogamy  favour  social  solidarity. 

Unlike  the  children  of  the  polyandric  family,  who  are 
something  less  than  half  brothers  and  sisters  (see  §  300,  note), 
and  unlike  the  children  of  the  polygynic  family,  most  of 
whom  are  only  half  brothers  and  sisters,  the  children  of  the 
monogamic  family  are,  in  the  great  majori+y  of  cases,  all  of 
the  same  blood  on  both  sides.  Being  thus  themselves  more 
closely  related,  it  follows  that  their  clustei-s  of  cliildren  are 
more  closely  related ;  and  where,  as  happens  in  early  stages, 
these  clusters  of  children  when  grown  up  continue  to  form  a 
community,  and  labour  together,  they  are  united  alike  by 
their  kinships  and  by  their  industrial  interests.  Though 
with  the  growth  of  a  family  group  into  a  gens  which  spreads, 
the  industrial  interests  divide,  yet  these  kinships  prevent  the 
divisions  from  becoming  as  marked  as  they  would  otherwise 
become.  And,  similarly,  when  the  gens,  in  course  of  time, 
develops  into  the  tribe.  Is^or  is  this  all.    If  local  cir- 

cumstances bring  together  several  such  tribes,  which  are  still 
allied  in  blood  though  more  remotely,  it  results  that  when, 
seated  side  by  side,  they  are  gradually  fused,  partly  by  inter- 
spersion  and  jiartly  by  intermarriage,  the  compound  society 
formed,  united  by  numerous  and  complicated  links  of  kin- 
ship as  well  as  by  political  interests,  is  more  strongly  bound 
together  than  it  would  otherwise  be.  Dominant  ancient 
societies  illustrate  this  truth.  Says  Grote — ''  All  that  we 
hear  of  the  most  ancient  Athenian  laws  is  based  upon  the 
gentile  and  ])hratric  divisions,  wliich  are  treated  throughout 
as  extensions  of  the  family."  Siniilai-jy,  acconling  to  ^fomm- 
sen,  on  the  "  Roman  Household  was  based  tlic  Ivoman  State, 
both  as  respected  its  constituent  elements  and  its  form. 
The  community  of  the  Ilonian  jieople  arose  out  of  the  junc- 
tion fin  whatever  way  bronalit  al)ont)  of  such  ancient  clan- 
shi])s  as  the  lioniilii,  \'ollinii,  l^'nbii,  cVc.''  And  Sir  Henry 
^Taine  has  sliown  in  detail  tlie  ways  in  whicli  tlie  simple 
family  ]iMs<es  into  tlie  house-connnunity,  and  eventually  the 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  275 

village-community.  Though,  in  presence  of  the 

evidence  furnished  by  races  having  irregular  sexual  relations, 
we  cannot  allege  that  sameness  of  blood  is  the  primary 
reason  for  political  cooperation — though  in  numerous  tribes 
which  have  not  risen  into  the  pastoral  state,  there  is  com- 
bination for  offence  and  defence  among  those  whose  diiferent 
totems  are  recognized  marks  of  different  bloods;  yet  where 
there  lias  been  established  descent  through  males,  and 
especially  where  monogamy  prevails,  sameness  of  blood 
becomes  largely,  if  not  mainly,  influential  in  determining 
political  cooperation.  And  this  truth,  under  one  of  its 
aspects,  is  the  truth  above  enunciated,  that  combined  action, 
requiring  a  tolerable  homogeneity  of  nature  among  those  who 
carry  it  on,  is,  in  early  stages,  most  successful  among  those 
who,  being  descendants  of  the  same  ancestors,  have  the 
greatest  likeness. 

An  all-important  though  less  direct  effect  of  blood-relation- 
ship, and  especially  that  more  definite  blood-relationshij) 
which  arises  from  monogamic  marriage,  has  to  be  added.  I 
mean  community  of  religion — a  likeness  of  ideas  and  senti- 
ments embodied  in  the  worehip  of  a  common  deity.  Begin- 
ning, as  this  does,  with  propitiation  of  the  deceased  founder 
of  the  family;  and  shared  in,  as  it  is,  by  the  multiplying 
groups  of  descendants,  as  the  family  spreads;  it  becomes 
a  further  means  of  holding  together  the  compound  cluster 
gradualh^  formed,  and  checking  the  antagonisms  that  arise 
between  the  com])onent  clusters:  so  favouring  integration. 
The  influence  of  the  bond  supplied  by  a  common  cult  every- 
where meets  us  in  ancient  history.  Each  of  the  cities  in 
])riniitive  Egypt  was  a  centre  for  the  worship  of  a  special 
divinity ;  and  no  one  who,  unbiassed  by  foregone  conclusions, 
observes  the  extnutrdinary  develo])ment  of  ancestor-worship, 
under  nil  its  fdriiis,  in  ]{gy])t,  can  douljt  the  origin  of  this 
divinity.     Of  the  Greeks  we  read  that — 

"  Each  family  had  its  own  sacred  rites  and  funereal  commemoration 
of  ancestors,  celebrated  by  the  master  of  the  house,  to  which  none  but 
members  of  the  family  were  admissible ;  the  extinction  of  a  family, 


270  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

carrying  with  it  the  suspeiisioa  of  these  religious  rites,  was  held  by  the 
Greeks  to  be  a  misfortune,  uot  merely  from  the  loss  of  the  citizens 
composing  it,  but  also  because  the  family  gods  and  the  manes  of 
deceased  citizens  were  thus  deprived  of  their  honours  and  might  visit 
the  country  with  displeasure.  The  larger  associations,  called  Gens, 
Phratry,  Tribe,  were  formed  by  an  extension  of  the  same  principle — 
of  the  family  considered  as  a  religious  brotherhood,  worshipping  some 
common  god  or  hero  w  ith  an  appropriate  surname,  and  recognizing 
him  as  their  joint  ancestor." 

A  like  bond  was  generated  in  a  like  manner  in  the  Roman 
community.  Each  curia,  which  was  the  homolo'giie  of  the 
phratry,  had  a  head,  "  whose  chief  function  was  to  preside 
over  the  sacrifices."  And,  on  a  larger  scale,  the  same  thing 
held  with  the  entire  society.  The  primitive  Ivoman  king  was 
a  ])riest  of  the  deities  common  to  all:  "  he  held  intercourse 
witli  the  gods  of  the  community,  whom  he  consulted  and 
whom  he  appeased."  The  beginnings  of  this  religious  bond, 
here  exhibited  in  a  developed  form,  are  still  traceable  in 
India.  Sir  Henry  Maine  says,  "  the  joint  family  of  the 
Hindoos  is  that  assemblage  of  persons  who  would  have 
joined  in  the  sacrifices  at  the  funeral  of  some  common 
ancestor  if  he  had  died  in  their  lifetime."  So  that  political 
integration,  while  furthered  by  that  likeness  of  nature  which 
identity  of  descent  involves,  is  again  furthered  by  that  like- 
ness of  religion  simultaneously  arising  from  this  identity  of 
descent. 

Thus  is  it,  too,  at  a  later  stage,  with  that  less-pronounced 
likeness  of  nature  characterizing  men  of  the  same  race  who 
have  multiplied  and  spread  in  such  ways  as  to  form  adjacent 
small  societies.  Cooperation  among  them  continues  to  be 
furthered,  though  less  effectually,  by  the  community  of  their 
natures,  by  the  comnninity  of  their  traditions,  ideas,  and 
sentiments,  as  well  as  by  their  community  of  speech.  Among 
men  of  diverse  types,  concert  is  necessarily  hindered 
both  by  ignorance  of  one  another's  words,  and  by  unlike- 
nesscs  of  thought  and  feeling.  It  needs  but  to  remember 
how  often,  even  among  those  of  the  same  family,  quarrels 
arise  from  misinterpretations  of  tilings  said,  to  see  what 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  277 

fertile  sources  of  confusion  and  antagonism  must  be  the 
partial  or  complete  differences  of  language  which  habitually 
accompany  differences  of  race.  Similarly,  those  who  are 
widely  unlike  in  their  emotional  natures  or  in  their  intellec- 
tual natures,  perplex  one  another  by  unexpected  conduct — a 
fact  on  which  travellers  habitually  remark.  Hence  a  further 
obstacle  to  combined  action.  Diversities  of  custom,  too, 
become  causes  of  dissension.  Where  a  food  eaten  by  one 
people  is  regarded  by  another  with  disgust,  where  an  animal 
held  sacred  by  the  one  is  by  the  other  treated  with  contempt, 
where  a  salute  which  the  one  expects  is  never  made  by  the 
other,  there  must  be  continually  generated  alienations  which 
hinder  joint  efforts.  Other  things  equal,  facility  of  coopera- 
tion will  be  proportionate  to  the  amount  of  fellow  feeling; 
and  fellow  feeling  is  prevented  by  whatever  prevents  men 
from  behaving  in  the  same  ways  under  the  same  conditions. 
The  working  together  of  the  original  and  derived  factors 
above  enumerated,  is  well  exhibited  in  the  following  passage 
•  from  Grote : — 
"  The  Hellens  were  all  of  common  blood  and  parentage,  were  all  de- 
scendants of  the  common  patriarch  Ilellen.  In  treating  of  the  histor- 
ical Greeks,  we  have  to  accei)t  this  as  a  datum ;  it  represents  the  sen- 
timent under  the  influence  of  whicli  they  moved  and  acted.  It  is 
placed  by  Herodotus  in  the  front  rank,  as  the  chief  of  those  four  ties 
■which  bound  together  the  Hellenic  aggregate :  1.  Fellowship  of  blood ; 
2.  Fellowship  of  language ;  3.  Fixed  domiciles  of  gods,  and  sacrifices 
common  to  all;  4.  Like  manners  and  dispositions." 

Influential  as  we  thus  find  to  be  the  likeness  of  nature 
which  is  insured  by  common  descent,  the  implication  is  that, 
in  the  absence  of  considerable  likeness,  the  political  aggre- 
gates formed  are  unstable,  and  can  be  maintained  only  by  a 
coercion  which,  some  time  or  other,  is  sure  to  fail.  Though 
other  causes  have  conspired,  yet  this  has  doubtless  been  a 
main  cause  of  the  dissolution  of  great  empires  in  past  ages. 
At  the  present  time  tlie  decay  of  the  Turkish  Empire  is 
largely,  if  not  chiefly,  ascribable  to  it.  Our  o^^^l  Indian 
Empire  too,  held  together  by  force  in  a  state  of  artificial 


2 78  BOLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

equilibrium,  threatens  sonic  Jay  to  illustrate  by  its  fall  the 
int'ohesion  arising  from  lack  of  coniiruity  in  components. 

§  451.  One  of  the  laws  of  cvolutictn  at  large,  is  that  inte- 
gration results  when  like  units  are  subject  to  the  same  force 
or  to  like  forces  {First  rriiiclples,  §  1G9) ;  and  from  the  lirst 
stages  of  political  integration  up  to  the  last,  we  find  this  law 
illustrated.  Joint  exposure  to  uniform  external  actions,  and 
joint  reactions  against  them,  have  from  the  beginning  been 
the  leading  causes  of  union  among  mcmbei's  of  societies. 

Already  in  §  250  there  has  been  indirectly  implied  the 
truth  that  coherence  is  first  given  to  small  hordes  of  primitive 
men  during  combined  opposition  to  enemies.  Subject  to  the 
same  danger,  and  joining  to  meet  this  danger,  the  members  of 
the  horde  become,  in  the  course  of  their  cooperation  against 
it,  more  bound  together.  In  the  first  stages  this  relation  of 
cause  and  effect  is  clearly  seen  in  the  fact  that  such  union  as 
arises  during  a  war,  disappears  when  the  war  is  over:  there 
is  loss  of  all  such  slight  political  combination  as  was  begin-  * 
ning  to  show  itself.  But  it  is  by  the  integration  of  simple 
groups  into  ('<tiii])<)iiii(I  gr(m])s  in  the  course  of  ('(niinion  re- 
sistance to  fdos,  and  attacks  ui)on  them,  that  this  ])rocess  is 
best  exemplified.  The  cascs'before  given  may  be  reinforced 
by  others.  Of  the  Karens,  Mason  says: — "  Each  village, 
being  an  indcjx'iident  community,  had  always  an  old  feud  to 
settle  with  nearly  every  otlier  village  among  their  own  people. 
But  the  conmion  danger  IVdiii  more  powerful  enemies, or  hav- 
ing common  injuries  to  reipiite,  often  led  to  sevei'al  villages 
uniting  together  for  defence  or  attack."  According  to  Kol- 
ben,  "  smaller  nations  of  Hottentots,  which  may  be  near  some 
powei-ful  nation,  frequently  enter  into  an  alliance,  offensive 
and  defensive, against  the  stronger  nation."  Among  the  Xew 
Caledonians  of  Tanna,"six,or  eight,  nv  inorc  of  their  villages 
unite,  and  form  what  may  be  called  a  district,  or  county,  and 

all  league  together  for  mutual  protection In  war 

two  or  more  of  these  districts  unite."    Samoan  "  villages,  in 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  279 

numbers  of  eight  or  ten,  unite  bv  common  consent,  and  form 
a  district  or  state  for  mutual  protection;  "  and  during  hosti- 
lities these  districts  themselves  sometimes  unite  in  twos  and 
threes.  The  like  has  happened  with  historic  peoples. 

It  was  during  the  wars  of  the  Israelites  in  David's  time,  that 
thej  passed  from  the  state  of  separate  tribes  into  the  state  of 
a  consolidated  ruling  nation.  The  scattered  Greek  connnuni- 
ties,  pre^dously  aggregated  into  minor  confederacies  by  minor 
wars,  were  promjDted  to  the  Pan-Hellenic  congress  and  to  the 
subsequent  cooperation,  when  the  invasion  of  Xerxes  was 
impending;  and  of  the  Spartan  and  Athenian  confederacies 
afterwards  formed,  that  of  Athens  acquired  the  hegemony, 
and  finally  the  empire,  during  continued  operations  against 
the  Persians.  So,  too,  was  it  with  the  Teutonic  races. 

The  German  tribes,  originally  wdthout  federal  bonds,  formed 
occasional  alliances  for  opposing  enemies.  Between  the 
first  and  fifth  centuries  these  tribes  massed  themselves  into 
great  groups  for  resistance  against,  or  attack  upon,  Rome. 
During  the  subsequent  century  the  prolonged  military  con- 
federations of  peoples  "'  of  the  same  blood  "  had  grown  into 
States,  which  afterwards  became  aggregated  into  still  larger 
States.  And,  to  take  a  comparatively  modern  instance,  the 
wars  between  France  and  England  aided  each  in  passing 
from  that  condition  in  which  its  feudal  divisions  were  in 
considerable  degrees  independent,  to  the  condition  of  a  con- 
solidated nation.  As  further  showing  how  integration 
of  smaller  societies  into  larger  ones  is  thus  initiated,  it  may 
be  added  that  at  first  the  unions  exist  only  for  military  pur- 
poses. Each  conq)onent  society  retains  for  a  long  time  its 
independent  internal  administration;  and  it  is  only  when 
joint  action  in  war  has  become  habitual,  that  the  cohesion  is 
made  permtyicnt  by  a  common  political  organization. 

This  compounding  of  smaller  communities  into  larger  by 
military  cooperation,  is  insured  by  the  disappearance  of  such 
smaller  communities  as  do  not  cooperate.  Earth  remarks 
that  "  the  Fulbe  [Fulahs]  are  continually  advancing,  as  they 


2S0  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

have  not  to  do  with  one  strong  enemy,  but  with  a  number  of 
small  tribes  without  any  bond  of  union."  Of  the  Damaras, 
Galton  says — "  If  one  werft  is  plundered,  the  adjacent  ones 
rarely  rise  to  defend  it,  and  thus  the  Xamac^uas  have  de- 
stroyed or  enslaved  piecemeal  about  one-half  of  the  whole 
Damara  poijulation."  Similarly  with  the  Ynca  conquests  in 
Peru:  ''  there  was  no  general  opposition  to  their  advance, 
for  each  province  merely  defended  its  land  without  aid  from 
any  other."  This  process,  so  obvious  and  familiar,  I  name 
because  it  has  a  meaning  which  needs  emphasizing.  For  we 
here  see  that  in  the  struggle  for  existence  among  societies, 
the  survival  of  the  fittest  is  the  survival  of  those  in  which 
the  power  of  military  cooperation  is  the  greatest;  and  mili- 
tary cooperation  is  that  primary  kind  of  cooperation  which 
prepares  the  way  for  other  kinds.  So  that  this  formation  of 
larger  societies  by  the  union  of  smaller  ones  in  war,  and  this 
destruction  or  absorption  of  the  smaller  uu-united  societies  by 
the  united  larger  ones,  is  an  inevitable  process  through  which 
the  varieties  of  men  most  adapted  for  social  life,  supplant  the 
less  adapted  varieties. 

Respecting  the  integration  thus  effected,  it  remains  only 
to  remark  that  it  necessarily  follows  this  course — necessarily 
begins  with  the  formation  of  simple  groups  and  advances  by 
the  compounding  and  re-compounding  of  them.  Impulsive 
in  conduct  and  with  rudimentary  powers  of  concerted  action, 
savages  cohere  so  slightly  that  only  small  bodies  of  them 
can  maintain  their  integrity.  Not  until  such  small  bodies 
have  severally  had  their  members  bound  to  one  another  by 
some  slight  political  organization,  does  it  become  possible  to 
unite  them  into  larger  bodies;  since  the  cohesion  of  these 
ini))lies  greater  fitness  for  concerted  action,  nnd  more  de- 
veloped organization  for  achieving  it.  And  siiiiihii'ly,  these 
composite  clut^ters  must  be  to  some  extent  consolidated  l)efore 
the  composition  can  be  carried  a  stage  fiirtlicr.  Pass- 

ing over  the  multitudinous  illustrations  occurring  among  tlie 
uncivilized,  it  will  suflice  if  I  refer  to  those  given  in  §  226, 


POLITICAL  INTEaRATION.  281 

and  reinforce  them  by  some  wliieli  historic  peoples  have 
supplied.  There  is  the  fact  that  in  primitive  Egypt,  the 
numerous  small  societies  (which  eventually  became  the 
"  nomes  ")  first  united  into  the  two  aggregates,  Upper  Egypt 
and  Lower  Egypt,  which  were  afterwards  joined  into  one; 
and  the  fact  that  in  ancient  Greece,  villages  became  united  to 
form  towns  before  the  towns  became  united  into  states,  while 
this  change  preceded  the  change  which  united  the  states  with 
one  another;  and  the  fact  that  in  the  old  English  period, 
small  principalities  were  massed  into  the  divisions  constitut- 
ing the  Heptarchy,  before  these  passed  in  to  something  like  a 
whole.  It  is  a  principle  in  physics  that,  since  the 

force  with  which  a  body  resists  strains  increases  as  the  squares 
of  its  dimensions,  while  the  strains  which  its  own  weight 
subject  it  to  increase  as  the  cubes  of  its  dimensions,  its  power 
of  maintaining  its  integrity  becomes  relatively  less  as  its 
mass  becomes  greater.  Something  analogous  may  be  said  of 
societies.  Small  aggregates  only  can  hold  together  w^hile 
cohesion  is  feeble ;  and  successively  larger  aggregjites  become 
possible  only  as  the  greater  strains  implied  are  met  by  that 
greater  cohesion  which  results  from  an  adapted  human  nature 
and  a  resulting  development  of  social  organization, 

§452.  As  social  integration  advances,  the  increasing  aggre- 
gates exercise  increasing  restraints  over  their  units — a  truth 
which  is  the  obverse  of  the  one  just  set  forth,  that  the  main- 
tenance of  its  integrity  by  a  larger  aggi'egate  implies  greater 
cohesion.  The  forces  by  which  aggregates  keep  their  units 
together  are  at  first  feeble;  and  becoming  strenuous  at  a 
certain  stage  of  social  evolution  afterwards  relax — or  rather, 
change  their  forms. 

Originally  the  individual  savage  gravitates  to  one  group  or 
other,  prompted  by  sundry  motives,  but  mainly  by  the  desire 
for  protection.  Concerning  the  Patagonians,  we  read  that  no 
one  can  live  apart:  "  if  any  of  them  attempted  to  do  it,  they 
would  undoubtedly  be  killed,  or  carried  away  as  slaves,  as 


282  .  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

soon  as  tlicj  were  discovered."  In  ^'ortli  Ainerica,  among 
the  Chinooks,  "  on  the  coast  a  custom  prevails  \^hich  autho- 
rizes the  seizure  and  enslavement,  unless  ransomed  by  his 
friends,  of  every  Indian  met  with  at  a  distance  from  his 
tribe,  although  they  may  not  be  at  war  with  each  other."  At 
first,  however,  though  it  is  necessary  to  join  some  group,  it  is 
not  necessary  to  continue  in  the  same  group.  ^Vhcn  oppressed 
by  their  chief,  Kalmucks  and  ^longols  desert  iiim  and  go  over 
to  other  chiefs.  Of  the  Abipones  Dobrizhoffer  says: — *"  With- 
out leave  asked  on  their  i)art,  or  displeasure  evinced  on  his, 
they  remove  with  their  families  whithersoever  it  suits  them, 
and  join  some  other  cacicpie;  and  wlicn  tired  of  the  second, 
return  with  impunity  to  the  horde  of  the  first."  Similarly  in 
South  Africa,  '^  the  frequent  instances  which  occur  [among 
theBalondq]  of  people  changing  from  one  part  of  the  country 
to  another,  show  that  the  great  chiefs  possess  only  a  limited 
power."  And  how,  through  this  process,  some  tribes  grow 
while  others  dwindle,  we  are  shown  by  M'Culloch's  remark 
respecting  tjie  Kukis,  that  "a  village,  having  around  it  plenty 
of  land  suited  for  cultivation  and  a  popular  chief,  is  sure 
soon,  by  accessions  from  less  favoured  ones,  to  become  large." 
With  the  need  which  the  individual  has  for  protection,  is 
joined  the  desire  of  the  tribe  to  strengthen  itself;  and  the 
practice  of  adoption,  hence  resulting,  constitutes  another 
mode  of  integration.  AVhere,  as  in  tribes  of  North  American 
Indians,  "  adoption  or  the  torture  were  the  alternative 
chances  of  a  captive  "  (adoption  being  the  fate  of  one  admired 
for  his  bravery),  we  see  re-illustrated  the  tendency  which 
each  society  has  to  grow  at  the  expense  of  other  societies. 
That  desire  for  many  actual  children  whereby  the  family 
may  be  strengthened,  which  Hebrew  traditions  show  us, 
roiidily  passes  into  the  desire  for  factitious  children — here 
made  one  with  the  brotherhood  by  exhange  of  blood,  and 
there  by  mock  birth.  As  was  implied  in  §  310,  it  is  probable 
that  the  practice  of  adoption  into  families  among  Greeks  and 
Romans,  arose  during  those  eaijy  times  when  the  wandering 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.       ^  2S3 

patriarchal  group  constituted  tlie  triLe,  and  when  the  wisli 
of  the  tribe  to  strengthen  itself  was  dominant ;  though  it  was 
doubtless  afterwards  maintained  chiefly  by  the  wish  to  have 
someone  to  continue  the  sacrifices  to  ancestors.  And,  indeed, 
on  remembering  that,  long  after  larger  societies  were  formed 
by  unions  of  patriarchal  groups,  there  continued  to  be  feuds 
between  the  component  families. and  clans,  we  nia}^  see  that 
there  had  never  ceased  to  operate  on  such  families  and  clans, 
the  primitive  motive  for  strengthening  themselves  by  increas- 
ing their  numbers. 

Kindred  motives  produced  kindred  results  within  more 
modern  societies,  during  times  when  their  parts  were  so  im- 
perfectly integrated  that  there  remained  antagonisms  among 
them.  Thus  we  have  the  fact  that  in  mediasval  England, 
while  local  rule  was  incompletely  subordinated  to  general 
rule,  every  free  man  had  to  attach  himself  to  a  lord,  a  burgh, 
or  a  guild :  being  otherwise  "  a  friendless  man,"  and  in  a 
danger  like  that  which  the  savage  is  in  when  not  belonging 
to  a  tribe.  And  then,  on  the  other  hand,  in,the  law  that 
"  if  a  bondsman  continued  a  year  and  a  day  within  a  free 
burgh  or  municipality,  no  lord  could  reclaim  him,"  we  may 
recognize  an  effect  of  a  desire  on  the  part  of  industrial  groups 
to  strengthen  themselves  against  the  feudal  groups  around — 
an  effect  analogous  to  that  of  adoption,  here  into  the  savage 
tribe  and  there  into  the  family  as  it  existed  in  more  ancient 
societies.  Xaturally,  as  a  whole  nation  becomes  more  in- 
tegTated,  local  integrations  lose  their  separateness,  and  their 
divisions  fade ;  though  they  long  leave  their  traces,  as  among 
ourselves  in  the  law  of  settlement,  and  as,  up  to  1824,  in  the 
laws  affecting  the  freedom  of  travelling  of  artisans. 

These  last  illustrations  introduce  us  to  the  truth  that  while 
at  first  there  is  little  cohesion  and  great  mobility  of  the  units 
forming  a. group,  advance  in  integration  is  habitually  accom- 
panied not  only  by  decreasing  ability  to  go  from  group  to 
group,  but  also  by  decreasing  ability  to  go  from  place  to 
place  within  the  group.     Of  course  the  transition  from  the 


284  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIOXS. 

nomadic  to  the  settled  state  partially  implies  this;  since 
each  person  becomes  in  a  considerable  degree  tied  by  his 
material  interests.  Slavery,  too,  effects  in  another  way  this 
binding. of  individuals  to  locally-placed  members  of  the 
society,  and  therefore  to  particular  parts  to  it;  and,  where 
serfdom  exists,  the  same  thing  is  shown  with  a  difference. 
But  in  highly-integrated  societies,  not  simply  those  in 
bondage,  but  others  also,  are  tied  to  tlieir  localities.  Of  the 
ancient  Mexicans,  Zurita  says: — "The  Indians  never 
changed  their  village  nor  even  their  quarter.  This  custom 
was  observed  as  a  law."  In  ancient  Peru,  "  it  was  not  lawful 
for  any  one  to  remove  from"  one  province,  or  village,  to  an- 
other; "  and  "  any  who  travelled  without  just  cause  were 
punished  as  vagabonds."  Elsewhere,  along  with  that  de- 
velopment of  the  militant  type  accompanying  aggregation, 
there  have  been  imposed  restraints  on  transit  under  other 
forms.  Ancient  Egypt  had  a  system  of  registration ;  and  all 
citizens  periodically  reported  themselves  to  local  officers. 
"  Every  Japanese  is  registered,  and  whenever  he  removes  his 
residence,  the  Xanushi,  or  head  man  of  the  temple  gives  a 
certificate."  And  then  in  despotically-governed  European 
countries  we  have  passports-systems,  hindering  the  journeys 
of  citizens  from  place  to  place,  and  in  some  cases  preventing 
them  from  going  abroad. 

In  these,  as  in  other  respects,  however,  the  restraints  which 
the  social  aggregate  exercises  over  its  units,  decrease  as  the 
industrial  tj^e  begins  greatly  to  qualify  the  militant  type; 
partly  because  the  societies  characterized  by  industrialism  are 
amply  populous,  and  have  superlluous  members  to  fill  the 
places  of  those  who  leave  them,  and  partly  because,  in  the 
absence  of  tlie  oppressidiis  ac('<)nij)anyiiig  a  militant  7'(>f/ime,  a 
sufficient  cohesion  results  from  pecuniary  interests,  family 
bonds,  and  love  of  country. 

§453.  Thus,  saying  notliing  for  the  present  of  that  political 
evolutiun  manifested  by  increase  of  structure,  and  restricting 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  285 

ourselves  to  that  political  evolution  manifested  by  increase  of 
mass,  here  distinguished  as  political  iutegration,  we  find  that 
this  has  the  following-  traits. 

AVhile  the  aggregates  are  small,  the  incorporation  of 
materials  for  growth  is  carried  on  at  one  another's  expense  in 
feeble  ways — by  taking  one  another's  game,  by  robbing  one 
another  of  women,  and,  occasionally  by  adopting  one  an- 
other's men.  As  larger  aggregates  are  formed,  incorporations 
proceed  in  more  Mdiolesale  ways;  first  by  enslaving  the  sepa- 
rate members  of  conquered  tribes,  and  presently  by  the  bodily 
annexation  of  such  tribes,  with  their  territory.  And  as  com- 
pound aggregates  pass  into  doubly  and  trebly  compound 
ones,  there  arise  increasing  desires  to  absorb  adjacent  smaller 
societies,  and  so  to  form  still  larger  aggregates. 

Conditions  of  several  kinds  further  or  hinder  social  growth 
and  consolidation.  The  habitat  may  be  fitted  or  unfitted  for 
supporting  a  large  population ;  or  it  may,  by  great  or  small 
facilities  for  intercourse  within  its  area,  favour  or  impede  co- 
operation; or  it  may,  by  presence  or  absenc§  of  natural 
barriers,  make  easy  or  difficult  the  keeping  together  of  the 
individuals  under  that  coercion  which  is  at  first  needful. 
And,  as  the  antecedents  of  the  race  determine,  the  indi- 
viduals may  have  in  greater  or  less  degrees  the  physical, 
the  emotional,  and  the  intellectual  natures  fitting  them  for 
combined  action. 

While  the  extent  to  which  social  integration  can  in  each 
case  be  carried,  depends  in  part  on  these  conditions,  it  also 
depends  in  part  upon  the  degree  of  likeness  among  the  units. 
At  first,  while  the  nature  is  so  little  moulded  to  social  life 
that  cohesion  is  small,  aggregation  is  largely  dependent  on 
ties  of  blood :  implying  great  degrees  of  likeness.  Groups  in 
which  such  ties,  and  the  resulting  congruity,  are  most 
marked,  and  which,  having  family  traditions  in  common,  a 
common  male  ancestor,  and  a  joint  worship  of  him,  are  in 
these  further  ways  made  alike  in  ideas  and  sentiments,  are 
groups  in  which  the  greatest  social  cohesion  and  power  of  co- 


286  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

operation  arise.  For  a  long  time  the  elans  and  tribes  de- 
seeuding  from  sueh  primitive  patrian-hal  groups,  have  their 
politieal  eoncert  facilitated  by  this  bond  of  relationship  and 
the  likeness  it  involves.  Only  after  adaptation  to  social  life 
has  made  considerable  progress,  does  harmonious  cooperation 
among  those  who  are  not  of  the  same  stock  become  practi- 
cable; and  even  then  their  unlikenesses  of  nature  must  be 
small.  Where  their  unlikenesses  of  nature  are  great,  the 
society,  held  together  only  by  force,  tends  to  disintegrate 
when  the  force  fails. 

Likeness  in  the  units  forming  a  social  group  being  one 
condition  to  their  integration,  a  further  condition  is  their 
joint  reaction  against  external  action:  cooperation  in  war  is 
the  chief  cause  of  social  integration.  The  temporary  unions 
of  savages  for  offence  and  defence,  show  us  the  initiatory 
step.  When  many  tribes  unite  against  a  common  enemy, 
long  continuance  of  their  combined  action  makes  them 
coherent  under  some  common  control.  And  so  it  is  subse- 
quently with  still  larger  aggregates. 

Progress  in  social  integration  is  both  a  cause  and  a  con- 
sequence of  a  decreasing  separableness  among  the  units. 
Primitive  wandering  hordes  exercise  no  such  restraints  over 
their  members  as  prevent  them  individually  from  leaving  one 
horde  and  joining  another  at  will.  Where  tribes  are  more 
developed,  desertion  of  one  and  admission  into  another  are 
less  easy — the  assemblages  are  not  so  loose  in  composition. 
And  throughout  those  long  stages  during  which  societies  are 
being  enlarged  and  consolidated  by  militancy,  the  mobility  of 
the  units  becomes  more  and  more  restricted.  Only  with  that 
substitution  of  voluntary  cooperation  for  compulsory  co- 
operation which  characterizes  dev(»lo])ing  industrialism,  do 
the  restrictions  on  movement  disappear:  enforced  union 
being  in  such  societies  adequately  replaced  by  spontanecfus 
union. 

A  reniaining  truth  to  be  named  is  that  political  integration, 
as  it  advances,  obliterates  the  original  divisions  among  the 


POLITICAL  INTEGRATION.  287 

united"  parts.  In  the  first  place  there  is  the  slow  disappear- 
ance of  those  non-topographical  divisions  arising  from  rela- 
tionship, as  seen  in  separate  gentes  and  tribes :  gradual  inter- 
mingling destroys  them.  In  the  second  place,  the  smaller 
local  societies  united  into  a  larger  one,  which  at  first  retain 
their  sejDarate  organizations,  lose  them  by  long  cooperation: 
a  common  organization  begins  to  ramify  through  them.  And 
in  the  third  place,  there  simultaneously  results  a  fading  of 
their  topographical  bounds,  and  a  replacing  of  these  by 
the  new  administrative  bounds  of  the  common  organiza- 
tion. Hence  naturally  results  the  converse  truth, 
that  in  the  course  of  social  dissolution  the  great  groups 
separate  first,  and  afterwards,  if  dissolution  continues,  these 
separate  into  their  component  smaller  groups.  Instance  the 
ancient  empires  successively  formed  in  the  East,  the  united 
kingdoms  of  which  severally  resumed  their  autonomies  when 
the  coercion  keeping  them  together  ceased.  Instance,  again, 
the  Carolingian  empire,  which,  first  parting  into  its  large 
divisions,  became  in  course  of  time  further  disintegrated  by 
subdivision  of  these.  And  where,  as  in  this  last  case,  the 
process  of  dissolution  goes  very  far,  there  is  a  return  to  some- 
thing like  the  primitive  condition,  under  which  small  preda- 
tory societies  are  engaged  in  continuous  warfare  with  like 
small  societies  around  them. 


77 


CHAPTER  IV. 

POLITICAL    DIFFEKEKTIATIOX. 

§  454.  As  was  pointed  out  in  First  rrinciphfi,  §154,  it  is 
true  of  a  social  aggregate,  as  of  every  other  aggregate,  that 
the  state  of  homogeneity  is  an  unstable  state;  and  that 
where  there  is  already  some  heterogeneity,  the  tendency  is 
towards  greater  heterogeneity. 

Lapse  from  homogeneity,  however,  or  rather,  the  increase 
of  such  heterogeneity  as  usually  exists,  requires  that  the 
parts  shall  be  heterogeneously  conditioned; 'and  Avhatever 
prevents  the  rise  of  contrasts  among  the  conditions,  prevents 
increase  of  heterogeneity.  One  of  the  implications  is  that 
there  must  not  be  continual  changes  in  the  distribution  of 
the  parts.  If  now  one  part  and  now  anotlier,  occupies  the 
same  position  in  relation  to  the  whole,  ]K'rnununit  structural 
differences  cannot  be  ])roduced.  There  must  be  such  co- 
hesion among  the  i)arts  as  prevents  eas}^  transposition. 

AVe  see  this  trutli  cxcm])lificd  in  the  simj)lest  individual 
organisms.  A  low  Rliizojjod,  of  which  the  substance  has  a 
mobility  approaching  to  tliat  of  a  litiuid,  remains  almost 
homogeneous;  because  each  ])art  is  from  moment  to  monuMit 
assuming  new  relations  to  other  parts  and  to  the  environ- 
ment. And  the  like  holds  with  the  simplest  societies. 
Concerning  the  members  of  the  small  unsettled  grou])s  of 
Fuegians,Cook  remarks  that  "  none  was  more  respected  tlian 
another."  The  A^eddahs,  the  Andamanese,  the  Australians, 
the  Tasmanians,  mav  also  l)e  instanced  as  loose  assemblages 

288 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  289 

wliich.  present  no  permanent  unlikenesses  of  social  position; 
or  if  unlikeness  exist,  as  some  travellers  allege,  they  are  so 
vague  that  they  are  denied  by  others.  And  in  such  wander- 
ing hordes  as  the  Coroados  of  South  America,  formed  of 
individuals  held  together  so  feebly  that  they  severally  join 
one  or  other  horde  at  will,  the  distinctions  of  parts  are  but 
nominal. 

Conversely,  it  is  to  be  anticipated  that  where  the  several 
parts  of  a  social  aggregate  are  heterogeneously  conditioned 
in  a  permanent  way,  they  will  become  proportionately 
heterogeneous.  We  shall  see  this  more  clearly  on  changing 
the  point  of  view. 

§  4-55.  .The  general  law  that  like  imits  exposed  to  like 
forces  tend  to  integrate,  was  in  the  last  chapter  exemplified 
by  the  formation  of  social  groups.  Here  the  correlative 
general  law,  that  in  proportion  as  the  like  units  of  an  aggTe- 
gate  are  exposed  to  unlike  forces  they  tend  to  form  differen- 
tiated parts  of  the  aggregate,  has  to  be  observed  in  its  appli- 
cation to  such  groups,  as  the  second  step  in  social  evolution. 

The  primary  political  differentiation  originates  from  the 
])rimary  family  differentiation.  ]\Ien  and  women  being  by 
the  unlikenesses  of  their  functions  in  life,  exposed  to  unlike 
influences,  begin  from  the  first  to  assume  unlike  positions  in 
the  community  as  they  do  in  the  family:  very  early  they 
resp(.'ctively  form  tlie  two  political  classes  of  rulers,  and 
ruled.  And  how  truly  such  dissimilarity  of  social  positions 
as  arises  between  them,  is  caused  by  dissimilarity  in  their  re- 
hitious  to  surrounding  actions,  we  shall  see  on  observing  that 
the  one  is  small  or  great  according  as  the  other  is  small  or 
great.  When  treating  of  the  status  of  women,  it  was  pointed 
out  that  to  a  considerable  degree  among  the  Chippewayans, 
and  to  a  still  greater  degree  among  the  Clatsops  and  Chi- 
nooks,  "  who  live  u]iou  fisli  and  roots,  which  the  women  are 
eciually  expert  with  the  iiicii  in  procuring,  the  former  have 
a  rank  and  inlhunice  verv.rari'lv  found  among  Indians."  We 


290  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

saw  also  that  in  Ciicba,  where  the  women  join  the  men  in 
war,  "  tiiihting  by  their  side,"  their  position  is  much  higher 
than  usual  among  rude  peoples;  and,  similarly,  that  in 
Dahomey,  where  the  women  are  as  much  warriors  as  the 
men,  they  are  so  regarded  that,  in  the  political  organization, 
"  the  w^oman  is  officially  superior."  On  contrasting  these 
exceptional  cases  with  the  ordinary  cases,  in  which  the  men, 
solely  occupied  in  war  and  the  chase,  have  unlimited  author- 
ity, while  the  women,  occupied  in  gathering  miscellaneous 
small  food,  and  carrying  burdens,  are  abject  slaves,  it  be- 
comes clear  that  diversity  of  relations  to  surrounding  actions 
initiates  diversity  of  social  relations.  And,  as  ive  saw  in 
§  327,  this  truth  is  further  illustrated  by  those  few  uncivilized 
societies  which  are  habitually  peaceful,  such  as  the  Bodo  and 
the  DhiiUcils  of  the  Indian  hills,  and  the  ancient  Pueblos  of 
North  America — societies  in  which  the  occupations  are  not, 
or  were  not,  broadly  divided  into  fighting  and  working,  and 
severally  assigned  to  tlic  two  sexes;  and  in  which, along  with 
a  comparatively  small  diiference  between  the  activities  of  the 
sexes,  there  goes,  or  went,  small  difference  of  social  status. 
So  is  it  W'hen  we  pass  from  the  greater  or  less  political 
differentiation  which  accompanies  difference  of  sex,  to  that 
which  is  independent  of  sex — to  that  which  arises  among 
men.  Where  the  life  is  permanently  peaceful,  definite 
class-divisions  do  not  exist.  One  of  the  Indian  Hill-tribes 
to  which  I  have  already  referred  as  exhibiting  the  honesty, 
truthfulness,  and  amiability,  accompanying  a  purely  indus- 
trial life,  may  be  instanced.  Hodgson  says,  "  all  Bodo  and 
all  Dhimals  are  equal — absolutely  so  in  right  or  law — won- 
derfully so  in  fact."  The  like  is  said  of  anotlicr  unwarlike 
and  amiable  hill  tribe:  "  the  Lepchas  have  no  caste  distinc- 
tions." And  among  a  different  race,  the  Papuans,  may  be 
named  the  peaceful  Arafuras  as  displaying  "  brotherly  love 
with  one  another,"  and  as  having  no  divisions  of  rank. 

§  456.  As,  at  first,  the  domestic  relation  between  the  sexes 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  291 

passes  into  a  political  relation,  such  that  men  and  women 
become,  in  militant  groups,  the  ruling  class  and  the  subject 
class;  so  does  the  relation  between  master  and  slave,  origin- 
ally a  domestic  one,  pass  into  a  political  one  as  fast  as,  by 
habitual  war,  the  making  of  slaves  becomes  general.  It  is 
with  the  formation  of  a  slave-class,  that  there  begins  that 
political  differentiation  between  the  regulating  structures 
and  the  sustaining  structures,  which  continues  throughout 
all  higher  forms  of  social  evolution. 

Kane  remarks  that  "  slavery  in  its  most  cruel  form  exists 
among  the  Indians  of  the  whole  coast  from  California  to 
Behring's  Straits,  the  stronger  tribes  making  slaves  of  all 
the  others  they  can  conquer.  In  the  interior,  where  there 
is  but  little  warfare,  slavery  does  not  exist."  And  this  state- 
ment does  but  exhibit,  in  a  distinct  form,  the  truth  every- 
where obvious.  Evidence  suggests  that  the  practice  of  en- 
slavement diverged  by  small  steps  from  the  practice  of  can- 
nibalism. Concerning  the  ISTootkas,  we  read  that  "  slaves 
are  occasionally  sacrificed  and  feasted  upon;  "  and  if  we 
contrast  this  usage  with  the  usage  common  elsewhere,  of 
killing  and  devoin-ing  captives  as  soon  as  they  are  taken,  we 
may  infer  that  the  keeping  of  captives  too  numerous  to  be 
immediately  eaten,  with  the  view  of  eating  them  subse- 
quently, leading,  as  it  would,  to  the  employment  of  them 
in  the  meantime,  caused  the  discovery  that  their  services 
might  be  of  more  value  than  their  flesh,  and  so  initiated  the 
liabit  of  preserving  them  as  slaves.  Be  this  as  it  may,  how- 
over,  wo  find  that  very  generally  among  tribes  to  which 
habitual  militancy  has  given  some  slight  degree  of  the  appro- 
priate structure,  the  enslavement  of  prisoners  becomes  an  es- 
tablished habit.  That  women  and  children  taken  in  war, 
and  such  men  as  have  not  been  slain,  naturally  fall  into  un- 
qualified servitude,  is  manifest.  They  belong  absolutely  to 
their  captors,  who  might  have  killed  them,  and  who  retain 
the  right  afterwards  to  kill  them  if  they  ]dease.  They  be- 
come property,  of  which  any  use  whatever  may  be  made. 


292  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

The  acquirement  of  slaves,  which  is  at  first  an  incident  of 
war,  becomes  presently  an  object  of  war.  Of  the  Xootkas 
we  read  that  "  some  of  the  smaller  tribes  at  the  north  of  the 
island  are  practically  regarded  as  slave-breeding  tribes,  and 
are  attacked  jicriodically  by  stronger  tribes;  "  and  the  like 
happens  among  the  Chinooks.  It  was  thus  in  ancient  Vera 
Paz,  where  periodically  they  made  "  an  inroad  into  the 
enemy's  territory  .  .  .  and  captured  as  many  as  they 
wanted;  "  and  it  was  so  in  Honduras,  where,  in  declaring 
war,  they  gave  their  enemies  notice  "  that  they  w'anted 
slaves."  Similarly  Avith  various  existing  peoples.  St.  John 
says  that  "  many  of  the  Dyaks  are  more  desirous  to  obtain 
slaves  than  heads;  and  in  attacking  a  village  kill  only  those 
who  resist  or  attempt  to  escape."  And  that  in  Africa  slave- 
making  wars  are  common  needs  no  proof. 

The  class-division  thus  initiated  by  war,  afterwards  main- 
tains and  strengthens  itself  in  sundry  ways.  Very  soon 
there  begins  the  custom  of  ]nircliase.  The  Chinooks,  be- 
sides slaves  who  have  been  captured,  have  slaves  who  were 
bought  as  children  from  their  neighbours;  and,  as  we  saw 
when  dealing  with  the  domestic  relations,  the  selling  of 
their  children  into  slavery  is  by  no  means  uncommon  with 
savages.  Then  the  slave-class,  thus  early  enlarged  by  pur- 
chase, comes  afterwards  to  be  otherwise  enlarged.  •  There  is 
voluntary  acceptance  of  slavery  for  the  sake  of  protection; 
there  is  enslavement  for  debt;  there  is  enslavement  for  crime. 

Leaving  details,  we  need  here  note  only  that  this  political 
differentiation  which  war  begins,  is  effected,  not  by  the  bodily 
incorporation  of  other  societies,  or  whole  classes  belonging  to 
other  societies,  but  l)y  the  incorporation  of  single  members 
of  other  societies,  and  by  like  individual  accretions.  Com- 
posed of  units  wlio  are  detached  from  their  original  social 
icliitiniis  and  from  one  another,  and  absolutely  attached  to 
their  owners,  the  slave-class  is,  at  first,  but  indistinctly  sep- 
arated as  a  social  stratum.  It  acquires  separateness  only  as 
fast  as  there  arise  some  restrictions  on  the  i^owers  of  the 


POLITICAL   DIFFERENTIATION.  293 

owners.  Ceasing  to  stand  in  the  position  of  domestic  cattle, 
slaves  begin  to  form  a  division  of  the  body  politic  when  their 
personal  claims  begin  to  be  distinguished  as  limiting  the 
claims  of  their  masters. 

§  457.  It  is  commonly  supposed  that  serfdom  arises  by 
mitigation  of  slavery;  but  examination  of  the  facts  shows 
that  it  arises  in  a  different  way.  While,  during  the  early 
struggles  for  existence  between  them,  primitive  tribes,  grow- 
ing at  one  another's  expense  by  incorporating  separately  the 
individuals  they  capture,  thus  form'a  class  of  absolute  slaves, 
the  formation  of  a  servile  class  considerably  higher,  and  hav- 
ing a  distinct  social  status,  accompanies  that  later  and  larger 
process  of  growth  under  whicli  one  society  incorporates  other 
societies  bodily.  Serfdom  originates  along  with  conquest 
and  annexation. 

For  whereas  the  one  implies  that  the  captured  people  are 
detached  from  their  homes,  the  other  implies  that  the  subju- 
gated people  continue  in  their  homes.  Thomson  remarks 
that,  "  among  the  J^ew  Zealanders  whole  tribes  sometimes 
became  nominally  slaves  when  conquered,  although  per- 
mitted to  live  at  their  usual  places  of  residence,  on  condition 
of  paying  tribute,  in  food,  &c." — a  statement  which  shows 
the  origin  of  kindred  arrangements  in  allied  societies.  Of 
the  Sandwich  Islands  government  when  first  known,  de- 
scribed as  consisting  of  a  king  with  turbulent  chiefs,  who  had 
been  subjected  in  comparatively  recent  times,  Ellis  writes : — 
"  The  common  people  are  generally  considered  as  attached  to 
the  soil,  and  are  transferred  with  the  land  from  one  chief  to 
another."  Before  the  late  changes  in  Fiji,  there  were  en- 
slaved districts;  and  of  their  inhabitants  we  read  that  they 
had  to  supply  the  chief's  houses  "  with  daily  food,  and  build 
and  keep  them  in  r('])air."  Though  coii(|uered  peoples  thus 
placed,  differ  widely  in  the  degrees  of  their  subjection  (being 
at  the  one  extreme,  as  in  Fiji,  liable  to  be  eaten  when  wanted, 
and  at  the  other  extreme  called  on  only  to  give  specified  pro- 


294  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

portions  of  produce* or  labour) ;  yet  they  remain  alike  as  being 
iindetached  from  their  original  places  of  residence.  That 

serfdom  in  Europe  originated  in  an  analogous  way,  there  is 
good  reason  to  believe.  In  Greece  we  have  the  case  of  Crete, 
where,  under  the  conquering  Dorians,  there  existed  a  vassal 
population,  formed,  it  would  seem,  partly  of  the  aborigines 
and  partly  of  preceding  conquerors;  of  which  the  first  were 
serfs  attached  to  lands  of  the  State  and  of  individuals,  and 
the  others  had  become  tributary  landowners.  In  Sparta  the 
like  relations  were  established  by  like  causes.  There  were 
the  helots,  who  lived  on,  and  cultivated,  the  lands  of  their 
Spartan  masters,  and  the  periccci,  who  had  probably  been, 
before  the  Dorian  invasion,  the  superior  class.  So  was  it  also 
in  the  Greek  colonies  afterwards  founded,  such  as  Syracuse, 
where  the  aborigines  became  serfs.  Similarly  in  later  times 
and  nearer  regions.  When.Gaul  was  overrun  by  the  Komans, 
and  again  when  Romanized  Gaul  was  overrun  by  the  Franks, 
there  was  little  displacement  of  the  actual  cultivators  of  the 
soil,  but  these  simply  fell  into  lower  positions:  certainly 
lower  political  positions,  and  M.  Guizot  thinks  lower  indus- 
trial positions.  Our  own  country  yields  illustrations. 
"Among  the  Scottish  Highlanders  some  entire  septs  or  clans  are 
stated  to  have  been  enslaved  to  others;  and  on  the  very  threshold  of 
Irish  history  we  meet  with  a  distinction  between  free  and  rent-paying 
tribes,  which  may  possibly  imj)ly  the  same  kind  of  superiority  and 
subordination." 

.  In  ancient  British  times,  writes  Pearson,  "  it  is  probable  that, 
in  parts  at  least,  there  were  servile  Anllages,  occupied  by  a 
kindred  but  conquered  race,  the  first  occupants  of  the  soil." 
!Rrore  trustworthy  is  the  evidence  which  comes  to  us  from 
old  English  days  and  Xorman  days.  Professor  Stubbs  says — 
"  The  ceorl  had  his  right  in  the  common  land  of  his  township;  his  Latin 
name,  villanus,  had  been  a  symbol  of  freedom,  but  his  privileges  were 
boimd  to  the  land,  and  when  the  Norman  lord  took  the  land  he  took 
the  villein  with  it.  Still  the  villein  retained  his  customary  rights,  his 
house  and  land  and  ri'^'hts  of  \vof)d  and  liay ;  his  lord's  demesne  depended 
for  cultivation  on  his  services,  and  he  had  in  his  lord's  sense  of  self- 
interest  the  sort  of  protection  that  was  shared  by  the  horse  and  the  ox." 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  295 

And  of  kindred  import  is  the  following  passage  fromlnnes: — 
"I  have  said  that  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Grange,  the  lowest  in  the 
Bcale  was  the  ceorl,  hand,  se?'/,  or  villein,  who  was  transferred  like  the 
land  on  which  he  laboured,  and  who  might  be  caught  and  brought 
back  if  he  attempted  to  escape,  like  a  stray  ox  or  sheep.  Their  legal 
name  of  nativus,  or  nei/f,  which  I  have  not  found  but  in  Britain,  seems 
to  point  to  their  origin  in  the  native  race,  the  original  possessors  of  the 
soil.  ...  In  the  register  of  Dunfermline  are  numerous  '  genealogies,^  or 
stud-books,  for  enabling  the  lord  to  trace  and  reclaim  his  stock  of  serfs 
by  descent.     It  is  observable  that  most  of  them  are  of  Celtic  names." 

Clearly,  a  subjugated  territory,  useless  without  cultivators, 
was  left  in  the  hands  of  the  original  cultivators,  because 
nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  putting  others  in  their  places; 
even  could  an  adequate  number  of  others  be  had.  Hence, 
while  it  became  the  conqueror's  interest  to  tie  each  original 
cultivator  to  the  soil,  it  also  became  his  interest  to  let  him 
have  such  an  amount  of  produce  as  to  maintain  him  and 
enable  him  to  rear  offspring,  and  it  further  became  his  in- 
terest to  protect  him  against  injuries  which  would  incapaci- 
tate him  for  work. 

To  show  how  fundamental  is  the  distinction  between  bond- 
age of  the  primitive  type  and  the  bondage  of  serfdom,  it 
needs  but  to  add  that  while  the  one  can,  and  does,  exist  among 
savages  and  pastoral  tribes,  the  other  becomes  possible  only 
after  the  agricultural  stage  is  reached;  for  only  then  can 
there  occur  the  bodily  annexation  of  one  society  by  another, 
and  only  then  can  there  be  any  tying  to  the  soil. 

§  458.  Associated  men  who  live  by  hunting,  and  to  whom 
the  area  occupied  is  of  value  only  as  a  habitat  for  game,  can- 
not well  have  anything  more  than  a  common  participation  in 
the  use  of  this  occupied  area:  such  ownership  of  it  as  they 
have,  must  be  joint  ownership.  Xaturally,  then,  at  the  outset 
all  the  adult  males,  who  are  at  once  hunters  and  warriors, 
arc  the  common  ])Osscssors  of  the  undivided  land,  encroach- 
ment on  which  by  other  tribes  they  resist.  Though,  in  the 
earlier  pastoral  state,  especially  where  the  barrenness  of  the 


296  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

• 

region  in^'olves  wide  dispersion,  there  is  no  definite  pro- 
prietorship of  the  tract  wandered  over;  jet,  as  is  shown  ns 
in  the  strife  between  the  herdsmen  of  Abraham  and  those 
of  Lot  respecting  feeding  grounds,  some  claims  to  exclusive 
use  tend  to  arise;  and  at  a  later  half-pastoral  stage,  as  among 
the  ancient  Germans,  the  wanderings  of  each  division  fall 
within  prescribed  limits. 

I  refer  to  these  facts  by  way  of  showing  the  identity  esta- 
lilished  at  the  outset  between  the  militant  class  and  the  land- 
owning class.  For  whether  the  gTOup  is  one  which  lives  by 
hunting  or  one  which  lives  by  feeding  cattle,  any  slaves  its 
members  possess  are  excluded  from  land-ownerslii]) :  the  free- 
men, who  are  all  fighting  men,  become,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  proprietors  of  their  territory.  This  connexion  in  variously 
modified  forms,  long  continues;  and  could  scarcely  do  other- 
wise. Land  being,  in  early  settled  communities,  the  almost 
exclusive  source  of  wealth,  it  happens  inevitably  that  during 
times  in  which  the  principle  that  might  is  right  remains  un- 
qualified, personal  power  and  ownership  of  the  soil  go  to- 
gether. Hence  the  fact  that  where,  instead  of  being  held  by 
the  whole  society,  land  comes  to  be  parcelled  out  among  com- 
ponent village-communities,  or  among  families,  or  among 
individuals,  possession  of  it  habitually  goes  along  with  the 
bearing  of  arms.  In  ancient  Egypt  "  every  soldier  was  a 
land-owner  " — "  had  an  allotment  of  land  of  about  six  acres." 
In  Greece  the  invading  Hellenes,  wresting  the  country  from 
its  original  holders,  joined  military  service  with  territorial  en- 
dowment. In  Rome,  too,  "  every  freeholder  from  the  seven- 
teenth to  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age,  was  under  obligation 
of  service  ...  so  that  even  the  emancipated  slave  had  to 
serve  who,  in  an  exce])tional  case,  had  come  into  ]:)ossession 
of  landed  property."  The  like  happened  in  the  early  Teutonic 
community.  Joined  with  professional  warriors,  its  army  in- 
cluded" the  massof  freemen  arranged  in  families  fightingfor 
their  homesteads  and  hearths:  "  such  freemen,  or  markmcn, 
owning  land  partly  in  common  and  partly  as  individual  pro- 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  297 

* 

prietors.  Or  as  is  said  of  this  same  arrangement  among  the 
ancient  English,  "  their  occupation  of  the  land  as  cognationes 
resulted  from  their  enrolment  in  the  field,  where  each  kin- 
dred was  drawn  up  under  an  officer  of  its  own  lineage  and  ap- 
pointment; "  and  so  close  was  this  dependence  that  "  a  thane 
forfeited  his  hereditary  freehold  by  misconduct  in  battle." 

Beyond  the  original  connexion  between  militancy  and 
land-owning,  whicli  naturally  arises  from  the  joint  interest 
which  those  who  own  the  land  and  occupy  it,  either  individu- 
ally or  collectively,  have  in  resisting  aggressors,  there  arises 
later  a  further  connexion.  As,  along  with  successful  mili- 
tancy, there  progresses  a  social  evolution  Avhich  gives  to  a 
dominant  ruler  increased  power,  it  becomes  his  custom  to  re- 
ward his  leading  soldiers  by  grants  of  land.  Early  Egyptian 
kings  "  bestowed  on  distinguished  military  officers  "  portions 
of  the  crown  domains.  When  the  barbarians  were  enrolled 
as  Roman  soldiers,  "  they  were  paid  also  by  assignments  of 
land,  according- to  a  custom  which  prevailed  in  the  Imperial 
armies.  The  possession  of  these  lands  was  given  to  them 
on  condition  of  the  son  becoming  a  soldier  like  his  father." 
And  that  kindred  usages  were  general  throughout  the  feudal 
period,  is  a  familiar  truth:  feudal  tenancy  being,  indeed, 
thus  constituted;  and  inability  to  bear  arms  being  a  reason 
for  excluding  women  from  succession.  To  exemplify  the 
nature  of  the  relation  established,  it  will  suffice  to  name  the 
fact  that  "  William  the  Conqueror  .  .  .  distributed  this 
kingdom  into  about  60,000  parcels,  of  nearly  equal  value 
[partly  left  in  the  hands  of  those  who  previously  held  it,  and 
partly  made  over  to  his  followers  as  either  owners  or  suze- 
rains], from  each  of  which  the  service  of  a  soldier  was  due;  " 
and  the  further  fact  that  one  of  his  laws  requires  all  owners 
of  land  to  "  swear  that  tliey  become  vassals  or  tenants,"  and 
will  "  defend  their  lord's  territories  and  title  as  well  as  his 
person  "  by  "  knight-service  on  horseback."' 

That  this  original  relation  between  landowning  and  mili- 
tancy long  survived,  we  are  shown  by  the  armorial  bearings 


298  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

of  county  families,  as  well  as  by  the  portraits  of  family  an- 
cestors, who  are  mostly  represented  in  military  costume. 

§  459.  Setting  out  with  the  class  of  warriors,  or  men 
bearing  arms,  who  in  primitive  communities  are  owners  of 
the  land,  collectively  or  individually,  or  pai'tly  one  and  partly 
the  other,  there  arises  the  question — How  does  this  class 
diiferentiate  into  nobles  and  freemen? 

The  most  general  reply  is,  of  course,  that  since  the  state  of 
homogeneity  is  by  necessity  unstable,  time  inevitably  brings 
about  inequalities  of  positions  among  those  whose  positions 
were  at  first  equal.  Before  the  semi-civilized  state  is  reached, 
the  differentiation  cannot  become  decided;  because  there  can 
be  no  larger  accumulations  of  wealth,  and  because  the  laws  of 
descent  do  not  favour  maintenance  of  such  accumulations  as 
are  possible.  But  in  the  pastoral,  and  still  more  in  the  agri- 
cultural, community,  especially  where  descent  through  males 
has  been  established,  several  causes  of  differentiation  come 
into  play.  There  is,  first,  unlikeness  of  kinship  to  the  head 

man.  Obviously,  in  course  of  generations,  the  younger  de- 
scendants of  the  younger  become  more  and  more  remotely  re- 
lated to  the  eldest  descendant  of  the  eldest;  and  social  inferi- 
ority arises.  As  the  obligation  to  execute  blood-revenge  for 
a  murdered  member  of  the  family  does  not  extend  beyond  a 
certain  degree  of  relationship  (in  ancient  France  not  beyond 
the  seventh),  so  neither  docs  the  accompanying  distinction. 
From  the  same  cause  comes  inferiority  in  ])oint  of  jiossessions. 
Inheritance  by  the  eldest  male  from  generation  to  generation, 
works  the  effect  that  those  who  are  the  most  distantly  con- 
nected in  blood  with  the  head  of  the  group,  are  also  the 
poorest.  Then  there  coojierates  with  these  factors  a 

consequent  factor;  namely,  the  extra  power  wliich  greater 
wealth  gives.  For  when  there  arises  disputes  within  tlie  tribe, 
the  richer  are  those  who,  by  their  better  apjiliances  for  de- 
fence and  their  greater  ability  to  purchase  aid,  naturally 
have  the  advantage  over  the  poorer.     Proof  that  this  is  a 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  299 

» 
jDotent  cause  is  found  in  a  fact  named  bj  Sir  Henry  Maine. 
"■  The  founders  of  a  part  of  our  modern  European  aristocracy, 
the  Danish,  are  known  to  have  been  originally  peasants  who 
fortified  their  houses  during  deadly  village  struggles  and  then 
used  their  advantage."  Such  superiorities  of  position, 

once  initiated,  are  increased  in  another  way.  Already  in  the  , 
last  chapter  we  have  seen  that  communities  are  to  a  certain 
extent  increased  by  the  addition  of  fugitives  from  other  com- 
munities— sometimes  criminals,  sometimes  those  who  are  op- 
pressed. While,  in  places  where  such  fugitives  belong  to 
races  of  sui3erior  types,  they  often  become  rulers  (as  among 
many  Indian  hill-tribes,  whose  rajahs  are  of  Hindoo  extrac- 
tion), in  places  where  they  are  of  the  same  race  and  cannot 
do  this,  they  attach  themselves  to  those  of  chief  power  in  their 
adopted  tribe.  Sometimes  they  yield  up  their  freedom  for 
the  sake  of  protection :  a  man  makes  himself  a  slave  by  break- 
ing a  spear  in  the  jDreseuce  of  his  wished-f  or  master,  as  among 
the  East  Africans,  or  by  inflicting  some  small  bodily  injury 
upon  him,  as  among  the  Eulalis.  In  ancient  Rome  the 
semi-slave  class  distinguished  as  clients,  originated  by  this 
voluntary  acceptance  of  servitude  with  safety.  But  where 
his  aid  promises  to  be  of  value  in  war,  the  fugitive  offers 
himself  as  a  warrior  in  exchange  for  maintenance  and  refuge. 
Other  tilings  equal,  he  chooses  for  master  some  one  marked 
by  superiority  of  power  and'  property ;  and  thus  enables  the 
man  already  dominant  to  become  more  dominant.  Such 
armed  dependents,  having  as  aliens  no  claims  to  the  lands  of 
the  group,  and  bound  to  its  head  only  by  fealty,  answer  in 
position  to  the  comiies  as  found  in  the  early  German  commu- 
nities, and  as  exemplified  in  old  English  times  by  the 
"  Iluscarlas  "  (Plousecarls),  with  whom  nobles  surrounded 
themselves.'  Evidently,  too,  followers  of  this  kind,  having 
certain  interests  in  common  with  their  protector  and  no  inte- 
rests in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  community,  become,  in 
his  hands,  the  means  of  usurping  comnnuial  rights  and  ele- 
vating himself  while  depressing  the  rest. 


300  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Step  by  step  the  contrast  strengthens.  Beyond  such  as 
have  vohmtarily  made  themselves  slaves  to  a  head  man,  others 
have  become  enslaved  by  capture  in  the  wars  meanwhile  go- 
ing on,  others  by  staking  themselves  in  gaming,  othei-s  by 
purchase,  others  by  crime,  others  by  debt.  And  of  neces- 
sity the  possession  of  many  slaves,  habitually  accompanying 
wealth  and  j)uwer,  tends  further  to  increase  that  wealth  and 
power,  and  to  mark  off  still  more  the  higher  rank  from  the 
lower. 

And  then,  finally,  the  inferior  freeman  finds  himself  so 
much  at  the  mercy  of  the  superior  freeman,  or  noble,  and  his 
armed  followers  of  alien  origin,  that  it  becomes  needful  for 
safety's  sake  to  be  also  a  follower;  and,  at  first  voluntary, 
the  relation  of  dependence  grows  more  and  more  comjnilsory. 
''  The  freeman  might  choose  his  Lord,  he  might  determine 
to  whom,  in  technical  phrase,  he  should  commend  himself; 
but  a  Lord  he  must  have,  a  Lord  to  act  at  once  as  his  pro- 
tector and  as  his  surety." 

§  460.  Certain  concomitant  influences  generate  differ- 
ences of  nature,  physical  and  mental,  between  those  members 
of  a  community  who  have  attained  superior  positions,  and 
those  who  have  remained  inferior.  T'^nlikenesses  of  status 
once  initiated,  lead  to  unlikenesses  of  life,  which,  by  the  con- 
stitutional changes  they  work,  'presently  make  the  unlike- 
nesses of  status  more  difficult  to  alter. 

First  there  comes  difference  of  diet  and  its  effects.  Tn  the 
habit,  common  among  i)rimitive  tribes,  of  letting  the  women 
subsist  on  the  leavings  of  the  men,  and  in  tlie  accompanying 
habit  of  den^-ing  to  the  younger  men  certain  choice  viands 
wliich  the  older  men  eat,  we  see  exemplified  the  inevitable 
proclivity  of  the  strong  to  feed  themselves  at  the  expense  of 
the  weak;  and  when  there  arise  class-divisions,  there  habit- 
ually results  better  nutrition  of  the  superior  than  of  the 
inferior.  Forster  remarks  that  in  the  Society  Islands  the 
lower  classes  often  suffer  from  a  scarcilv  of  food  wliicli  never 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  301 

extends  to  the  upper  classes.  In  tlie  Sandwich  Islands  the 
flesh  of  such  animals  as  they  have,  is  eaten  principally  by 
the  chiefs.  Of  cannibalism  among  the  Fijians,  Seeman  says 
• — "  the  common  people  throughout  the  group,  as  well  as 
women  of  all  classes,  were  by  custom  debarred  from  it." 
These  instances  sufficiently  indicate  the  contrast  that  every- 
where arises  between  the  diets  of  the  ruling  few  and  of  the 
subject  many.  Xaturally  by  such  differences  in  diet,  and. 
accompanying  diiferences  in  clothing,  shelter,  and  strain  on 
the  energies,  -are  eventually  produced  physical  differences. 
Of  the  Fijians  we  read  that  "  the  chiefs  are  tall,  well  made, 
and  muscular;  while  the  lower  orders  manifest  the  meagTe- 
ness  arising  from  laborious  service  and  scanty  nourishment." 
The  chiefs  among  the  Sandwich  Islanders  "  are  tall  and  stout, 
and  their  personal  appearance  is  so  much  superior  to  that  of 
the  common  people,  that  some  have  imagined  them  a  distinct 
race."  Ellis,  verifying  Cook,  says  of  the  Tahitians,  that 
the  chiefs  are,  ''  almost  without  exception,  as  much  superior 
to  the  peasantry  ...  in  physical  strength  as  they  are  in 
rank  and  circumstances;  "  and  Erskine  notes  a  parallel  con- 
trast among  the  Tongans.  That  the  like  holds  of  the  Afri- 
can races  may  be  inferred  from  Reade's  remark  that — ■ 
"The  court  lady  is  tall  and  elegant;  her  skin  smooth  and  transparent; 
her  beauty  has  stamina  and  longevity.  The  girl  of  the  middle  classes, 
so  fre(]uently  pretty;  is  very  often  short  and  coarse,  and  soon  becomes 
a  matron ;  while,  if  you  descend  to  the  lower  classes,  you  will  find 
good  looks  rare,  and  the  figure  angular,  stunted,  sometimes  almost 
deformed."* 

Simultaneously  there  arise  between  rulers  and  ruled,  un- 
likenesses  of  bodily  activity  and  skill.  Occupied,  as  those  of 
higher  raid;  commonly  are,  in  the  chase  when  not  occupied 
in  war,  they  liave  a  life-long  discipline  of  a  kind  conducive 
to  various  physical  superiorities;  wliile,  contrariwise,  tliose 
occupied  in  agTiculture,  in  carrying  burdens,  and  in  other 

*  While  writing  I  find,  in  the  recently-issued  -'Transactions  of  the  An- 
thropolofjifal  Institute,"  proof  tliat  even  now  in  England,  tlie  professional 
classes  are  both  talliT  and  lieavior  tlian  the  artizan  classes. 


302  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

drudgeries,  partially  lose  what  agility  and  address  they  natu- 
rally had.     Class-predominance  is  thus  furtlicr  facilitated. 

And  then  there  are  the  respective  mental  traits  produced 
by  daily  exercise  of  power  and  by  daily  submission  to  power. 
The  ideas,  and  sentiments,  and  modes  of  behaviour,  perpetu- 
ally, repeated,  generate  on  the  one  side  an  inherited  litness 
for  command,  and  on  the  other  side  an  inherited  fitness  for 
obedience;  with  the  result  that,  in  course  of  time,  there 
arises  on  both  sides  the  belief  that  the  established  relations 
of  classes  are  the  natural  ones. 

§  401.  By  implying  habitual  War  among  settled  societies, 
the  foregoing  interpretations  have  implied  the  formation  of 
compound  societies.  Such  class-divisions  as  have  been  de- 
scribed, are  therefore  usually  complicated  by  further  class- 
divisions  arising  from  the  relations  established  between  those 
conquerors  and  conquered  whose  respective  groups  already 
contain  class-divisions. 

This  increasing  differentiation  which  accompanies  increas- 
ing integration,  is  clearly  seen  in  such  semi-civilized  societies 
as  that  of  the  Sandwich  Islanders.  Their  ranks  are — 
"  1.  King,  queens,  and  royal  family,  along  with  the  councillor  or 
chief  minister  of  the  king.  2.  The  governors  of  tlie  different  islands, 
and  the  chiefs  of  several  large  divisions.  Many  of  these  are  descendants 
of  those  who  were  kings  of  the  respective  islands  in  Cook's  time,  and 
until  subdued  by  T-amehameha.  3.  Chiefs  of  districts  or  villages,  who 
pay  a  regular  rent  for  tlie  land,  cultivating  it  by  means  of  their  depen- 
dants, or  letting  it  out  to  tenants.  This  rank  includes  also  the  ancient 
priests.  4.  The  labouring  classes — those  renting  small  portions  of  land, 
those  working  on  the  land  for  food  and  clothing,  mechanics,  musicians, 
and  dancers." 

And,  as  shown  cisewliere,  these  labouring  classes  are  other- 
wise divisible  into — artizans,  who  are  jinid  wages;  serfs,  at- 
taclied  to  the  soil;  and  slaves.  Inspection  makes  it  tolera- 
bly clear  that  the  lowest  chiefs,  once  independent,  were  re- 
duced to  the  second  rank  when  adjacent  chiefs  conquered 
them  and  became  local  kings;  and  that  tliey  were  reduced  to 
the  third  rank  at  the  same  time  that  these  local  kinij;s  became 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  303 

chiefs  of  the  second  rank,  when,  by  conquest,  a  kingship  of 
tlie  whole  group  was  established.  Other  societies  in  kindred 
stages  show  us  kindred  divisions,  similarly  to  be  accounted 
for.  Among  the  New  Zealanders  there  are  six  grades;  there 
are  six  among  the  Ashantees;  there  are  five  among  the 
Abyssinians;  and  other  more  or  less  compounded  African 
States  present  analogous  divisions.  Perhaps  ancient  Peru 
furnishes  as  clear  a  case  as  any  of  the  superposition  of  ranks 
resulting  from  subjugation.  The  petty  kingdoms  which  were 
massed  together  by  the  conquering  Yncas,  were  severally  left 
with  the  rulers  and  their  subordinates  undisturbed ;  but  over 
the  whole  empire  there  w^a's  a  superior  organization  of  Ynca 
rulers  of  ^various  grades.  That  kindred  causes  produced 
kindred  effects  in  early  Egyptian  times,  is  inferable  from 
traditions  and  remains  which  tell  us  both  of  local  struggles 
which  ended  in  consolidation,  and  of  conquests  by  invading 
races;  whence  would  naturally  result  the  numerous  divisions 
ajid  sub-divisions  wdiich  Egyptian  society  presented:  an  in- 
ference justified  by  the  fact  that  under  Koman  dominion, 
there  was  a  re-complication  caused  by  the  superposing  of 
Roman  goverinng  agencies  upon  native  governing  agencies. 
Passing  over  other  ancient  instances,  and  coming  to  the 
familiar  case  of  our  own  country,  we  may  note  how,  from  the 
followers  of  the  conquering  Normans,  there  arose  the  two 
ranks  of  the  greater  and  lesser  barons,  holding  their  land  di- 
rectly from  the  king,  while  the  old  English  thanes  were  re- 
duced to  the  rank  of  sub-feudatories.  Of  course  where  per- 
petual wars  produce,  first,  small  aggregations,  and  then  larger 
ones,  and  then  dissolutions,  and  then  reaggregations,  and 
then  unions  of  them,  various  in  their  extents,  as  hajiiVened 
in  media3val  Europe,  there  result  very  numerous  divisions. 
In  the  Merovingian  kingdoms  there  were  slaves  having  seven 
different  origins;  there  were  serfs  of  more  than  one  grade; 
there  were  freedmen — men  who,  though  emanci]iated,did  not 
rank  with  the  fully  free;  and  there  were  two  other  classes 
less  than  free —  the  It  ten  and  the  coIonL  Of  the  free  there 
78 


304  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

were  three  classes — iudoi)eiKleut  landowners;  freemen  in 
relations  of  dependence  with  other  freemen,  of  whom  there 
were  two  kinds;  and  freemen  in  special  relations  with  the 
king,  of  whom  there  were  three  kinds. 

And  here,  while  observing  in  these  various  cases  how 
greater  political  differentiation  is  made  possible  by  greater 
political  integration,  we  may  also  obser\e  that  in  early  stages, 
while  social  cohesion  is  small,  greater  political  integration  is 
made  possible  by  greater  })()litical  differentiation.  Fur  the 
larger  the  mass  to  be  held  together,  while  incoherent,  the 
more  numerous  must  be  the  agents  standing  in  successive 
degrees  of  subordination  to  hold  it  together. 

§  4G2.  The  political  differentiations  which  militancy  origi- 
nates, and  which  for  a  long  time  increase  in  detlniteness,  so 
that  mixture  of  ranks  by  marriage  is  made  a  crime,  are  at 
later  stages,  and  under  other  conditions,  iiitci-fcred  with, 
traversed,  and  partially  or  wholly  destroyed. 

AVliere,  for  ages  and  in  varying  degTces,  war  has  been  pro- 
ducing aggregations  and  dissolutions,  the  continual  breaking 
up  and  re-forming  of  social  bonds,  obscures  the  original  di- 
visions established  in  the  ways  described:  instance  the  state 
of  thing's  in  the  ^lerovingiaii  kingdoms  jn.-l  named.  And 
where,  instead  of  concpiests  by  kindred  adjacent  societies, 
which  in  large  measure  leave  standing  the  social  j)ositions 
iiiid  ])roperties  of  the  subjugated,  there  are  conquests  by  Mlicn 
races  carried  on  more  barbarously,  the  original  grades  may  be 
practically  obliterated,  and,  in  place  of  them,  there  may  come 
grades  established  entirely  by  appointment  of  the  despotic 
conqueror.  In  parts  of  the  East,  Avliere  such  over-runnings 
of  race  by  race  have  been  going  on  from  the  earliest  recorded 
times,  we  see  this  state  of  things  substantially  realized. 
There  is  little  or  nothing  of  hereditary  rank;  and  the  only 
rank  recognized  is  that  of  official  position.  Besides  the  dif- 
ferent grades  of  ajipointed  state-functionaries,  there  are  no 
class-distinctions  having  j)oliiic;d  meanings. 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  305 

A  tendency  to  subordination  of  the  original  ranks,  and  a 
substitution  of  new  ranks,  is  otherwise  caused :  it  accompanies 
the  progress  of  political  consolidation.  The  change  which 
occurred  in  China  illustrates  this  effect.  Gutzlaff  says — • 
"Mere  title  was  afterwards  (on  the  decay  of  the  feudal  system)  the 
reward  bestowed  by  the  sovereign.  .  .  .  and  the  haughty  and  power- 
ful grandees  of  other  countries  are  here  the  dejiendent  and  penurious 
■  servants  of  the  Crown.  .  .  .  The  revolutionary  principle  of  levelling 
all  classes  has  been  carried,  in  China,  to  a  very  great  extent.  .  .  .  This 
is  introduced  for  the  benefit  of  the  sovereign,  to  render  his  authority 
supreme. " 

The  causes  of  such  changes  are  not  difficult  to  see.  In  the 
first  place  the  subjugated  local  rulers,  losing,  as  integration 
advances,  more  and  more  of  their  power,  lose,  consequently, 
more  and  more  of  their  actual,  if  not  of  their  nondnal,  rank: 
passing  from  the  condition  of  tributary  rulers  to  the  condition 
of  subjects.  Indeed,  jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  monarch 
sometimes  prompts  positive  exclusion  of  them  from  influential 
jiositions;  as  in  France,  where  ''  Louis  XIV.  systematically 
excluded  the  nobility  from  ministerial  functions."  Presently 
their  distinction  is  further  diminished  by  the  rise  of  com- 
peting ranks  created  by  State-authority.  Instead  of  the  titles 
inherited  by  the  land-possessing  military  chiefs,  which  were 
descriptive  of  their  attributes  and  positions,  there  come  to  be 
titles  conferred  by  the  sovereign.  Certain  of  the  classes  thus 
established  are  still  of  military  origin;  as  the  knights  made 
on  the  battle-field,  sometimes  in  large  numbers  before  battle, 
as  at  Agincourt,  when  500  were  thus  created,  and  sometimes 
afterwards  in  reward  for  valour.  Others  of  them  arise  from 
the  exercise  of  political  functions  of  different  grades;  as  in 
France,  where,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  hereditary  nobil- 
ity was  conferred  on  officers  of  the  great  council  and  officers 
of  the  chamber  of  accounts.  The  administration  of  law,  too, 
originates  titles  of  honour.  In  France,  in  1  (507,  nobility  was 
granted  to  doctors,  regents,  and  professors  of  law;  and  "  the 
superior  courts  obtained,  in  1(544-,  the  privileges  of  nobility 
of  the  first  degree."     So  that,  as  Warnlccenig  remarks,  "  the 


306  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

original  concej)tion  of  nobility  was  in  the  ooursc  of  time  so 
much  widened  that  its  primitive  rehUion  to  the  possession  of 
a  tief  is  no  longer  recognizable,  and  the  whole  institution 
seems  changed."  These,  with  kindred  instances  which  our 
own  country  and  other  European  countries  furnish,  show  us 
both  how  the  original  class-divisions  become  blurred,  and 
how  the  new  class-divisions  are  distinguished  by  being  de- 
localized.  They  are  strata  which  run  through  the  integrated 
society,  having,  many  of  them,  no  reference  to  the  land  and 
no  more  connexion  with  one  place  than  with  another.  It  is 
true  that  of  the  titles  artificially  conferred,  the  higher  are 
habitually  derived  from  the  names  of  districts  and  towns:  so 
simulating,  but  only  simulating,  the  ancient  feudal  titles  ex- 
pressive of  actual  lordship  over  territories.  The  other  mod- 
ern titles,  however,  which  have  arisen  with  the  growth  of 
political,  judicial,  and  other  functions,  have  not  even  nom- 
inal references  to  localities.  This  change  naturally  accom- 
panies the  growing  integration  of  the  parts  into  a  whole,  and 
the  rise  of  an  organization  of  the  whole  which  disregards  the 
divisions  among  the  parts. 

]\rore  effective  still  in  weakening  those  primitive  political 
divisions  initiated  by  militancy,  is  increasing  industrialism. 
This  acts  in  two  ways — firstly,  by  creating  a  class  having 
l)Ower  derived  otherwise  than  from  territorial  ]wssessions  or 
ofiicial  positions;  and,  secondly,  by  generating  ideas  and 
sentiments  at  variance  with  the  ancient  assumptions  of  class- 
superiority.  As  we  have  already  seen,  rank  and 
wealth  are  at  the  outset  habitually  associated.  Existing 
uncivilized  peoples  still  show  us  this  relation.  The  chief  of 
a  kraal  among  tlio  Koraniui  Hottentots  is  "  usually  the  per- 
son of  greatest  property."  In  the  Tiechuana  language  "  tlie 
word  losi  .  .  .  has  a  double  ;icce))tntiou,  dciiofiug  either  a 
chief  ()!•  ;i  rich  luiiii."  Such  suuill  ;intliori(y  jis  m  ("liiuook 
chief  has,  "  rests  on  riches,  which  consists  in  wives,  children, 
slaves,  Itoats,  and  shells."  Tiude  lMiro])enn  peo])les,  like  the 
Albanians,  yield  kindred  facts:   the  heads  of  their  cominunes 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  307 

"  sont  en  general  les  gens  les  plus  riches."  Indeed  it  is 
manifest  that  before  the  development  of  commerce,  and  while 
possession  of  land  could  alone  give  largeness  of  means,  lord- 
ship and  riches  were  directly  connected ;  so  that,  as  Sir  Henry 
Maine  remarks,  "  the  opposition  commonly  set  up  between 
birth  and  wealth,  and  particularly  wealth  other  than  landed 
property,  is  entirely  modern."  When,  however,  with  the 
arrival  of  industry  at  that  stage  in  which  wholesale  transac- 
tions bring  large  profits,  there  arise  traders  who  vie  with, 
and  exceed,  many  of  the  landed  nobility  in  wealth;  and 
when  by  conferring  obligations  on  kings  and  nobles,  such 
traders  gain  social  influence;  there  conies  an  occasional  re- 
moval of  the  barrier  between  them  and  the  titled  classes.  In 
France  the  process  began  as  early  as  1271,  when  there  were 
issued  letters  ennobling  Raoul  the  goldsmith — "  the  first 
letters  conferring  nobility  in  existence  "  in  France.  The 
precedent  once  established  is  followed  with  increasing  fre- 
quency; and  sometimes,  under  pressure  of  fi^nancial  needs, 
there  grows  up  the  practice  of  selling  titles,  in  disguised  ways 
or  openly.  In  France,  in  1702,  the  king  ennobled  200  per- 
sons at  3,000  livres  a-head;  in  1706,  500  persons  at  6,000 
livres  a-head.  And  then  the  breaking  down  of  the  ancient 
political  divisions  thus  caused,  is  furthered  by  that  weak- 
ening of  them  consequent  on  the  growing  spirit  of  e(]uality 
fostered  by  industrial  life.  In  proportion  as  men  are  habit- 
uated to  maintain  their  own  claims  while  respecting  the 
claims  of  others,  which  they  do  in  every  act  of  exchange, 
whether  of  goods  ft)r  money  or  of  services  for  pay,  there  is 
produced  a  mental  attitude  at  variance  with  that  which  ac- 
companies subjection;  and,  as  fast  as  this  happens,  siu-li 
political  distinctions  as  imply  subjection,  lose  more  and  more 
of  that  respect  which  gives  them  strength. 

§  463.  Class-distinctions,  then,  date  back  to  the  beginnings 
of  social  life.  Omitting  tliese  small  wandering  assemblages 
which  are  so  incoherent  that  their  component  parts  are 


308  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ever  changing  their  relations  to  one  another  and  to  the  en- 
vironment, we  see  that  whei;ever  there  is  some  coherence 
and  some  permanence  of  relation  among  the  parts,  there  be- 
gin to  arise  political  divisions.  Relative  superiority  of  power, 
first  causing  a  differentiation  at  once  domestic  and  social, 
between  the  activities  of  the  sexes  and  the  consequent  posi- 
tions of  the  sexes,  presently  begins  to  cause  a  differentiation 
among  males,  shown  in  the  bondage  of  captives:  a  master- 
class and  a  slave-class  are  formed. 

AVhere  men  continue  the  wandering  life  in  pursuit  of  wihl 
food  for  themselves  or  their  cattle,  the  groups  they  form  are 
debarred  from  doing  more  by  war  than  appropriate  one 
another's  units  individually;  but  where  men  have  passed 
into  the  agricultural  or  settled  state,  it  becomes  possible  for 
one  community  to  take  possession  bodily  of  another  com- 
munity, along  with  the  territory  it  occupies.  AVhen  this 
happens  there  arise  additional  class-divisions.  The  con- 
quered and  tribute-paying  community,  besides  having  its 
headmen  reduced  to  subjection,  has  its  people  reduced  to  a 
state  such  that,  while  they  continue  to  live  on  their  lands, 
they  yield  up,  through  the  intermediation  of  their  chiefs, 
part  of  the  produce  to  the  conquerors:  so  foreshadowing 
what  eventually  becomes  a  serf -class. 

From  the  beginning  the  militant  class,  being  by  force  of 
arms  the  dominant  class,  becomes  the  class  which  owns  the 
source  of  food — the  land.  During  the  hunling  and  pastoral 
stages,  the  warriors  of  the  group  hold  the  Ininl  ('(illoctively. 
On  pasi^ing  into  the  settled  state,  their  touuros  bei'onie  partly 
collective  and  partly  individual  in  sundry  ways,  and  eventu- 
ally almost  wholly  individual.  But  llirDUgliont  long  stages 
of  social  evolution,  landowning  and  militancy  continue  to 
be  associated. 

The  class-differejitiatinn  nf  whicli  niililancv  is  the  active 
cause,  is  furthered  by  the  estahlishnicnt  of  definite  descent, 
and  especially  male  descent,  and  by  the  transmission  of  posi- 
tion and  property  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest  continually. 


POLITICAL  DIFFERENTIATION.  309 

This  conduces  to  inequalities  of  position  and  wealth  between 
near  kindred  and  remote  kindred ;  and  such  inequalities  once 
initiated,  tend  to  increase;  since  it  results  from  them  that 
the  superior  get  greater  means  of  maintaining  their  power 
by  accumulating  appliances  for  offence  and  defence. 

Such  differentiation  is  augmented,  at  the  same  time  that  a 
new  differentiation  is  set  up,  by  the  immigration  of  fugitives 
who  attach  themselves  to  the  most  powerful  member  of  the 
group:  now  as  dependants  who  work,  and  now  as  armed 
followers — armed  followers  who  form  a  class  bound  to  the 
dominant  man  and  unconnected  with  the  land.  And  since, 
in  clusters  of  such  groups,  fugitives  ordinarily  flock  most  to 
the  strongest  group,  and  become  adherents  of  its  head,  they 
are  instrumental  in  furthering  those  subsequent  integrations 
and  differentiations  which  conquests  bring  about. 

Inequalities  of  social  position,  bringing  inequalities  in  the 
supplies  and  kinds  of  food,  clothing,  and  shelter,  tend  to  es- 
tablish physical  differences :  to  the  further  advantage  of  the 
rulers  and  disadvantage  of  the  ruled.  And  beyond  the 
physical  differences,  there  are  produced  by  the  respective 
habits  of  life,  mental  differences,  emotional  and  intellectual, 
strengthening  the  general  contrast  of  nature. 

AVhen  there  come  the  conquests  which  produce  compound 
societies,  and,  again,  doubly  compound  ones,  there  result 
superpositions  of  ranks.  And  the  general  effect  is  that,  while 
the  ranks  of  the  e()ii(|uering  society  become  respectively  high- 
er than  those  which  existed  before,  the  ranks  of  the  con- 
quered society  become  respectively  lower. 

The  class-divisions  thus  formed  during  tlie  earlier  stages 
of  militancy,  are  traversed  and  obscured  as  fast  as  many 
small  societies  arc  consolidated  into  one  largo  society.  Ranks 
referring  to  local  organization  are  gradually  replaced  by  ranks 
referring  to  general  organization.  Instead  of  (Icimty  and 
sub-doputy  governing  agents  who  are  the  militant  owners  of 
the  sub-divisions  they  rule,  there  come  governing  agents  who 
more  or  less  clearly  form  strata  running  throughout  the 


810  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

society  as  a  whole — a  concomitant  of  developed  political  ad- 
ministration. 

CliictiY,  however,  we  have  to  note  that  while  the  higher 
political  evolution  of  large  social  aggregates,  tends  to  break 
down  the  divisions  of  rank  which  grew  up  in  the  small  com- 
ponent social  aggregates,  by  substituting  other  divisions, 
these  original  divisions  are  still  more  broken  down  by  grow- 
ing industrialism.  Generating  a  wealth  that  is  not  con- 
nected with  rank,  tins  initiates  a  competing  power;  and  at 
the  same  time,  by  establishing  the  equal  positions  of  citizens 
before  the  law  in  respect  of  trading  transactions,  it  weakens 
those  divisions  which  at  the  outset  expressed  inequalities  of 
position  before  tlie  law. 

As  verifying  these  interpretations,  I  may  add  that  they 
harmonize  with  the  interpretations  of  ceremonial  institu- 
tions already  given.  When  the  conquered  enemy  is  made 
a  slave,  and  mutilated  by  taking  a  trophy  from  his  body,  we 
see  simultaneously  originating  the  deepest  political  distinc- 
tion and  the  ceremony  which  marks  it;  and  with  the  contin- 
ued militancy  that  compounds  and  re-compounds  social 
gi'oups,  there  goes  at  once  the  development  of  political  distinc- 
tions and  the  development  of  ceremonies  marking  them. 
And  as  we  before  saw  that  growing  industrialism  diminishes 
the  rigour  of  ceremonial  rule,  so  here  we  see  that  it  tends  to 
destroy  those  class-divisions  which  militancy  originates,  and 
to  establish  quite  alien  ones  which  indicate  ditferences  of 
position  consequent  on  differences  of  aptitiuk;  for  the  vari- 
ous functions  which  an  industrial  society  needs. 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

POLITICAL    FORMS    AND    FORCES. 

§  464.  The  conceptions  of  biologists  have  been  greatly  en- 
larged by  the  discovery  that  organisms  which,  when  adult, 
appear  to  have  scarcely  anything  in  common,  were,  in  their 
first  stages,  very  similar;  and  that,  indeed,  all  organisms  start 
with  a  common  structure.  Recognition  of  this  truth  has  re- 
volutionized not  only  their  ideas  respecting  the  relations  of 
organisms  to  one  another,  but  also  their  ideas  respecting  the 
relations  of  the  parts  of  each  organism  to  one  another. 

If  societies  have  evolved,  and  if  that  mutual  dependence  of 
their  parts  which  cooperation  implies,  has  been  gradually 
reached,  then  the  implication  is  that  however  unlike  their 
developed  structures  become,  there  is  a  rudimentary  structure 
with  which  they  all  set  out.  And  if  there  can  be  recognized 
any  such  primitive  unity,  recognition  of  it  will  help  us  to 
interpret  the  ultimate  diversity.  ^\^e  shall  understand  better 
how  in  each  society  the  several  components  of  the  political 
agency  have  come  to  be  what  we  now  see  them;  and  also 
how  those  of  one  society  are  related  to  those  of  another. 

Setting  out  with  an  unorganized  horde,  including  both 

sexes  and  all  ages,  let  lis  ask  what  must  happen  when  some 

public  question,  as  that  of  migration,  or  of  defence  against 

enemies,  has  to  be  decided.     The  assembled  individuals  will 

fall,  more  or  less  clearly,  into  two  divisions.     The  elder,  the 

stronger,  and  those  whose  sagacity  and  courage  have  been 

proved  by  experience,  will  form  the  smaller  part,  who  carry 

311 


312  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

on  the  discussion ;  while  the  larger  part,  formed  of  the  young, 
the  weak,  and  the  undistinguished,  will  be  listeners,  who 
usually  do  no  more  than  express  from  time  to  time  assent  or 
dissent.  A  further  inference  may  safely  be  drawn.  In  the 
cluster  of  leading  men  there  is  sure  to  be  one  whose  weight 
is  greater  than  that  of  any  other — some  aged  hunter,  some 
distinguished  warrior,  some  cunning  medicine-man,  who  will 
have  more  than  his  individual  share  in  forming  the  resolu- 
tion finally  acted  upon.  That  is  to  say,  the  entire  assemblage 
will  resolve  itself  into  three  parts.  To  use  a  biological  meta- 
phor, there  will,  out  of  the  general  mass,  be  differentiated  a 
nucleus  and  a  nucleolus. 

These  first  traces  of  political  structure  which  we  infer  a 
priori  must  spontaneously  arise,  we  find  have  arisen  among 
the  rudest  peoples:  repetition  having  so  strengthened  them 
as  to  produce  a  settled  order.  AVhen,  among  the  aborigines 
of  Victoria,  a  tribe  plans  revenge  on  another  tribe  supposed 
to  have  killed  one  of  its  members,  "  a  council  is  called  of  all 
the  old  men  of  the  tribe.  .  .  The  w^omen  form  an  outer 
circle  round  the  men.  .  .  The  chief  [simply  '  a  native  of 
influence  ']  opens  the  council."  And  what  we  here  see  hap- 
pening in  an  assemblage  having  no  greater  differences  than 
those  based  on  strength,  age,  and  ca])at'ity,  happens  when, 
later,  these  mil uinl  ilistinctions  have  gained  definiteness.  In 
illustration  may  be  named  the  account  which  Schoolcraft 
gi^•es  of  a  conference  at  wliicli  the  Chippewas,  Ottawas,  and 
Pottowattomies  met  certain  Tnited  States'  Commissioners: 
Schoolcraft  T)eing  himself  present.  x\fter  the  address  of  the 
head  commissioner  had  been  delivered,  the  speaking  on  be- 
half of  the  Indians,  was  carried  on  by  tlic  princii>al  chiefs: 
the  lead  being  taken  by  "  a  man  venerable  for  his  age  and 
standing."  Though  Schoolcraft  does  not  describe  the  as- 
semblage of  undistinguished  peojdc,  yet  tluil  they  were  pre- 
sent is  shown  by  a  passage  in  one  of  the  native  speeches: — 
"  ]>ehold!  see  my  brethren,  both  young  and  old — the  warriors 
and  chiefs — the  women  and  children  of  my  nation."     And 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AND  FORCES.  •  313 

that  the  political  order  observed  on  this  occasion  was  the 
usual  order,  is  implied  by  its  recurrence  even  in  parts  of 
America  where  chiefs  have  become  marked  off  by  ascribed 
nobility;  as  instance  the  account  of  one  of  the  Central 
American  tribes,  who  ""  have  frequent  reunions  in  their 
council-house  at  night.  The  hall  is  then  lighted  up  by  a 
large  lire,  and  the  people  sit  with  uncovered  heads,  listening 
respectfully  to  the  observations  and  decisions  of  the  aliuales 
— men  over  forty  years  of  age,  who  have  occupied  public 
positions,  or  distinguished  themselves  in  some  way."  Among 
peoples  unlike  in  type  and  remote  in  locality,  we  find,  modi- 
fied in  detail  but  similar  in  general  character,  this  primitive 
governmental  form.  Of  the  Hill  tribes  of  India  may  be  in- 
stanced the  Khonds,  of  whom  we  read  that — 
"  Assemblies  of  the  whole  tribe,  or  of  any  of  its  sub-divisions,  are  con- 
vened, to  determine  questions  of  general  importance.  The  members  of 
every  society,  however,  have  a  right  to  be  present  at  all  its  councils, 
and  to  give  their  voices  on  the  questions  mooted,  although  the  patri- 
archs alone  take  part  in  their  public  discussion.''''  .  .  .  "The  federal 
patriarchs,  in  like  manner,  consult  with  the  heads  of  tribes,  and 
assemble  when'necessary  the  entire  population  of  the  federal  group." 
In  New  Zealand,  too,  the  government  was  conducted  in  ac- 
cordance with  public  opinion  expressed  in  general  assem- 
blies; and  the  chiefs  "^  could  not  declare  peace  or  war,  or  do 
anything  affecting  the  whole  people,  wathout  the  sanction  of 
the  majority  of  the  clan."  Of  the  Tahitians,  Ellis  tells  us 
that  the  king  had  a  few  chiefs  as  advisers,  but  that  no  affair 
of  national  importance  could  be  undertaken  without  consult- 
ing the  land-holders  or  second  rank,  and  also  that  public  as- 
semblies were  held.  Similarly  of  the  Malagasy.  ''  The 
greatest  national  council  in  Madagascar  is  an  assembly  of  the 
people  of  the  capital,  and  the  heads  of  the  provinces,  towns, 
villages,  <Src."     The  king  usually  presides  in  person. 

Though  in  these  last  cases  we  see  considerable  changes  in 
the  relative  powers  of  the  three  components,  so  that  the  inner 
few  have  gained  in  authority  at  the  expense  of  the  outer 
many,  yet  all  three  are  still  present;  and  they  continue  to 


314  •         POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

be  present  when  we  pass  to  sundry  liistoric  peoples.  Even 
of  the  Pha3nicians,  ]\Iovers  notes  that  ''  in  the  time  of  Alex- 
ander a  war  was  decided  upon  by  the  Tyrians  without  the 
consent  of  the  absent  king,  the  senate  acting  together  with 
the  popular  assembly."  Then  there  is  the  familiar  case  of 
the  Homeric  Greeks,  whose  Agora,  presided  over  by  the  king, 
was  "  an  assembly  for  talk,  communication  and  discussion  to 
a  certain  extent  by  the  chiefs,  in  presence  of  the  people  as 
listeners-  and  sympathisers,"  who  were  seated  around ;  and 
that  the  people  were  not  always  passive  is  shown  by  the  story 
of  Thersites,  who,  ill-used  though  he  was  by  Odysseus  and 
derided  by  the  crowd  for  interfering,  had  first  made  his 
harangue.  Again,  the  king,  the  senate,  and  the  freemen,  in 
early  Roman  times,  stood  in  relations  which  had  manifestly 
grown  out  of  those  existing  in  the  original  assembly;  for 
though  the  three  did  not  simultaneously  co-operate,  yet  on 
important  occasions  the  king  communicated  his  proposals  to 
the  assembled  burgesses,  who  expressed  their  approval  or  dis- 
approval, and  the  clan-chiefs,  forming  the  senate,  though 
they  did  not  debate  in  public,  had  yet  such  joint  power  that 
they  could,  on  occasion,  negative  the  decision  of  king  and 
burgesses.  Concerning  the  primitive  Germans,  Tacitus,  as 
translated  by  Mr.  Freeman,  writes — 

"  On  smaller  matters  the  chiefs  debate,  on  greater  matters  all  men ;  but 
so  that  those  things  whose  final  decision  rests  with  the  whole  people 
are  first  handled  by  the  chiefs.  .  .  .  The  multitude  sits  armed  in  such 
order  as  it  thinks  good  ;  silence  is  proclaimed  by  the  priests,  who  liavc 
also  the  right  of  enforcing  it.  Presently  the  king  or  chief,  according 
to  the  age  of  each,  according  to  his  birth,  according  to.  his  glory  in 
•war  or  his  eloquence,  is  listened  to,  speaking  rather  by  the  influence 
of  persuasion  than  by  the  power  of  commanding.  If  their  opinions 
give  offence,  they  are  thnist  aside  with  a  shout;  if  they  aj)provcd,  the 
hearers  clash  their  spears." 

Similarly  among  the  Scandinavians,  as  shown  us  in  Iceland, 
where,  besides  the  general  Al-thing  annually  held,  which  it 
was  "  disreputable  for  a  freeman  not  to  attend,"  and  at  which 
"  people  of  all  classes  in  fact  pitched  their  tents,"  there  were 
local  a.sacmblics  called  Vnr-thinu's  "  attended  1)V  all  the  free- 


POLITICAL   FORMS   AND  FORCES.  315 

men  of  the  district,  with  a  crowd  of  retainers  .  .  .  both  for 
the  discussion  of  public  affairs  and  the  administration  of  jus- 
tice .  .  .  Within  the  circle  [formed  for  administering  jus- 
tice] sat  the  judges,  the  people  standing  on  the  outside.  In 
the  account  given  bv  Mr,  Freeman  of  the  yearly  meetings  in 
the  Swiss  cantons  of  Uri  and  Appenzell,  we  may  trace  this 
primitive  political  form  as  still  existing;  for  though  the  pres- 
ence of  the  people  at  large  is  the  fact  principally  pointed  out, 
yet  there  is  named,  in  the  case  of  Uri,  the  body  of  magistrates 
or  chosen  chiefs  who  fonn  the  second  element,  a^  well  as  the 
head  magistrate  who  is  the  first  element.  And  that  in  ancient 
England  there  was  a  kindred  constitution  of  the  Witenage- 
mot,  is  indirectly  proved;  as  witness  the  following  passage 
from  Freeman's  Growth  of  ihe  English  Constitution: — 
"No  ancient  record  gives  us  any  clear  or  formal  account  of  the  consti- 
tution of  that  body.  It  is  commonly  spoken  of  in  a  vague  way  as  a 
gathering  of  the  wise,  the  noble,  the  great  men.  But,  alongside  pas- 
sages like  these,  we  find  other  passages  which  speak  of  it  in  a  way 
which  implies  a  far  more  popular  constitution.  King  Eadward  is  said 
to  be  chosen  King  by  'all  folk.'  Earl  God  wine  'makes  his  speech 
before  the  king  and  all  the  people  of  the  land.' " 

And  the  implication,  as  Mr.  Freeman  points  out,  is  that  the 
share  taken  by  the  people  in  the  proceedings  was  that  of 
expressing  by  shouts  their  approval  or  disapproval. 

This  form  of  ruling  agency  is  thus  shown  to  be  the  funda- 
mental form,  by  its  presence  at  the  outset  of  social  life  and 
by  its  continuance  under  various  conditions.  Not  among 
peoples  of  superior  types  only,  such  as  Aryans  and  some 
Semites,  do  we  find  it,  but  also  among  sundry  INIalayo-Poly- 
nesians,  among  the  red  men  of  ISTorth  America,  the  Dravidian 
tribes,  of  the  Indian  hills,  the  aborigines  of  Australia.  In 
fact,  as  already  im|)liod,  governmental  organization  could  not 
possibly  begin  in  any  other  way.  On  the  one  hand,  no  con- 
trolling force  at  firsts  exists  save  that  of  the  aggregate  will  as 
manifested  in  the  assembled  horde.  On  the  other  hand,  load- 
ing parts  in  d(>tormining  this  aggregate  will  are  inevitablv 
taken  by  the  few  whose  superiority  is  recognized.     And  of 


316  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

these  prcJomiuant  few,  sjoiiie  one  is  sure  to  be  most  pre- 
dominant. That  which  we  have  to  note  as  specially  siguili- 
cant,  is  not  that  a  free  form  of  government  is  the  primitive 
form;  though  this  is  an  implication  which  may  be  dwelt 
upon.  Xor  are  we  chiefly  concerned  with  the  fact  that  at 
the  very  beginning  there  shows  itself  that  separation  of  the 
superior  few  from  the  inferior  many,  which  becomes  marked 
in  later  stages;  though  this,  too,  is  a  fact  which  may  be 
singled  out  and  emphasized.  jSoy  is  attention  to  be  mainly 
directed  to  the  early  appearance  of  a  man  whose  controlling- 
power  is  gTeater  than  that  of  any  other;  though  the  evidence 
given  may  be  cited  to  prove  this.  But  here  we  have  to  note, 
particularly,  the  truth  that  at  the  outset  may  be  discerned 
the  vague  outlines  of  a  tri-une  political  structure. 

§  4G5.  Of  course  the  ratios  among  the  ])owers  of  these 
three  components  are  in  no  two  cases  quite  tlic  sanii';  and,  as 
implied  in  sundry  of  the  above  examples,  they  everywhere 
undergo  more  or  less  change — change  determined  here  by 
the  emotional  natures  of  the  men  composing  the  group ;  there 
by  the  physical  circumstances  as  favouring  or  hindering  inde- 
pendence; now  by  the  activities  as  warlike  or  ])eaceful;  and 
now  by  the  exceptional  characters  of  particular  individuals. 

Unusual  sagacity,  skill,  or  strength,  habitually  regarded  by 
primitive  men  as  supernatural,  may  give  to  some  member  of 
the  tribe  an  influence  which,  transmitted  to  a  successor  sup- 
posed to  inherit  liis  supernatural  character,  establishes  an 
authority  subordinating  both  that  of  the  other  leading  men 
and  that  of  the  mass.  Or  from  a  division  of  labour  such  that 
while  some  remain  exclusively  warriors  the  rest  are  in  a 
measure  othenvise  occujMed,  it  may  result  that  the  two  suj)e- 
ri<^)r  com])on('nts  of  the  political  agency  get  power  to  over-ride 
tlic  tliiid.  Or  the  members  of  the  third,  keeping  u|)  hal)its 
which  nud<e  coercion  oi  them  difficult  or  im])ossible,  may 
maintain  a  general  predominance  over  the  other  two.  And 
then  th''  relations  of  these  three  ii-ovei-ninu'  el(Mnents  to  the 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AXD  FORCES.  317- 

entire  community  may,  and  ordinarily  do,  undergo  change 
by  the  formation  of  a  passive  class  excluded  from  their  de- 
liberations— a  class  at  first  composed  of  the  women  and  after- 
wards containing  also  the  slaves  or  other  dependents. 

War  successfully  carried  on,  not  only  generates  this  passive  \ 
class,  but  also,  implying  as  it  does  subjection  to  leaders, 
changes  more  or  less  decidedly  the  relative  powers  of  these  | 
three  parts  of  the  political  agency.  As,  other  things  equal, 
groups  in  which  there  is  little  subordination  are  subjugated 
by  gToups  in  which  subordination  is  greater,  there  is  a  ten- 
dency to  the  survival  and  spread  of  groups  in  which  the  con- 
trolling power  of  the  dominant  few  becomes  relatively  great.  . 
In  like  manner,  since  success  in  war  largely  depends  on  that 
promptitude  and  consistency  of  action  which  singleness  of 
will  gives,  there  must,  where  warfare  is  chronic,  be  a  ten- 
dency for  members  ot  the  ruling  group  to  become  more  and 
more  obedient  to  its  head :  failure  in  the  struggle  -for  exist- 
ence among  tribes  otherwise  equal,  being  ordinarily  a  conse- 
(juence  of  disobedience.  And  then  it  is  also  to  be  noted  that 
the  over-runnings  of  societies  one  by  another,  repeated  and 
re-repeated  as  they  often  arc,  have  the  efPect  of  obscuring 
and  even  obliterating  the  traces  of  the  original  structure. 

While,  however,  recognizing  the  fact  that  during  political 
evolution  these  tliree  primitive  components  alter  their  propor- 
tions in  various  ways  and  degrees,  to  the  extent  that  some  of 
them  become  mere  rudiments  or  wholly  disappear,  it  will 
greatly  alter  our  concc]ition  of  political  forms  if  we  remem- 
ber that  they  are  all  derived  from  this  primitive  form — that 
a  despotism,  an  oligarchy,  or  a  democracy,  is  a  type  of  gov- 
ernment in  which  one  of  the  original  components  has  greatly  1 
developed  at  the  expense  of  the  other  two;  and  that  the 
various  mixed  types  are  to  be  arranged  according  to  the  de- 
grees in  which  one  or  other  of  the  original  components  has 
the  greater  influence. 

§  4r»(>.  Ts  tliorc  any  fundniiiciital  unity  of  poliiical  forces 


■  318  POLITICAL  INSTITUTION'S. 

accompanying  this  fundamental  unity  of  political  forms? 
While  losing  sight  of  the  common  origin  of  the  structures, 
have  we  not  also  become  inadequately  conscious  of  the  com- 
mon source  of  their  powers^  How  prone  we  are  to  forget 
the  ultimate  while  thinking  of  the  proximate,  it  may  be 
worth  while  pausing  a  moment  to  observe. 

One  who  in  a  storm  watches  the  breaking  up  of  a  wreck  or 
the  tearing  down  of  a  sea-wall,  is"  impressed  by  the  immense 
energy  of  the  waves.  Of  course,  when  it  is  pointed  out  that 
in  the  absence  of  winds  no  such  results  can  be  produced,  he 
recognizes  the  truth  that  tlie  sea  is  in  itself  powerless,  and 
that  the  jmwer  enabling  it  to  destroy  vessels  and  piers  is 
given  by  the  currents  of  air  which  roughen  its  surface.  If  he 
stops  short  here,  however,  he  fails  to  identify  the  force  which 
works  these  striking  changes.  Intrinsically,  the  air  is  just  as 
passive  as  the  water  is.  There  would  be  no  winds  were  it 
not  for  the  varying  effects  of  the  Sun's  heat  on  different  parts 
of  the  Earth's  surface.  Even  when  lie  has  traced  back  thus 
far  the  energy  whicli  undermines  cliff's  and  makes  shingle,  he 
has  not  reached  its  source;  for  in  the  absence  of  that  con- 
tinuous concentration  of  the  solar  mass  caused  by  the  mutual- 
gravitation  of  its  parts,  there  would  be  no  solar  radiations. 

The  tendency  here  illustrated,  wljich  all  have  in  some  de- 
gree and  most  in  a  great  degree,  to  associate  power  with  the 
visible  agency  exercising  it  rather  than  with  its  inconspicu- 
ous source,  has,  as  above  implied,  a  vitiating  influence  on 
conceptions  at  large,  and,  among  others,  on  political  ones. 
Though  the  hal)it,  general  in  past  times,  of  regarding  the 
powers  of  governments  as  iulieront,  has  been,  by  the  growth 
of  popular  instituli<iTis,  a  good  dcnl  (|ualified;  yet,  even  now, 
there  is  no  clear  api^reheusiou  of  the  fact  tlint  governments 
are  not  themselves  jwwerful,  but  are  the  instrumentalities  of 
a  i)0wer.  This  power  existed  before  governments  arase; 
governments  were  themselves  produced  by  it;  and  it  ever 
continues  to  be  that  which,  disguised  more  or  less  completely, 
works  through  them.     Let  us  go  back  to  the  beginning. 


POLITICAL  FORMS^  AND  FORCES.  319  ' 

The  Greenlanders  are  entirely  without  political  control;  • 
having  nothing  which  represents  it  more  nearly  than  the 
deference  paid  to  the  opinion  of  some  old  man,  skilled  in  seal- 
catching  and  the  signs  of  the  weather.  But  a  Greenlander 
who  is  aggrieved  by  another,  has  his  remedy  in  what  is  called 
a  singing  combat.  He  composes  a  satirical  poem,  and  chal- 
lenges his  antagonist  to  a  satirical  duel  in  face  of  the  tribe: 
"  h*who  has  the  last  word  wins  the  trial."  And  then  Crantz 
adds — "  nothing  so  effectually  restrains  a  Greenlander  from 
vice,  as  the  dread  of  public  disgrace."  Here  we  see  operating 
in  its  original  unqualified  way,  that  governing  influence  of 
public  sentiment  which  precedes  more  special  governing 
influences.  The  dread  of  social  reprobation  is  in  some 

cases  enforced  by  the  dread  of  banishment.  Among  the 
otherwise  unsubordinated  Australians,  they  "  punish  each 
■  other  for  such  offences  as  theft,  sometimes  by  expulsion  from 
the  camp."  Of  one  of  the  Columbian  tribes  we  read  that 
"  the  Salish  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  any  regular  form  of 
government;  "  and  then,  further,  we  read  that  ''  criminals 
are  sometimes  punished  by  banishment  from  their  tribe." 
Certain  aborigines  of  the  Indian  hills,  widely  unlike  these 
Columbians  in  type  and  in  mode  of  life,  show  us  a  similar  rela- 
tion between  undeveloped  political  restraint  and  the  restraint 
of  aggregate  feeling.  Among  the  Bodo  and  the  Dhimals, 
whose  village  heads  are  simply  respected  elders  with  no  co- 
ercive powers,  those  who  offend  against  customs  "  are  admon- 
ished, fined,  or  excommunicated,  according  to  the  degi*ee  of 
the  offence."  But  the  controlling  influence  of  public  senti- 
ment in  groups  which  have  little  or  no  organization,  is  best 
shown  in  the  force  with  which  it  acts  on  those  who  are  bound 
to  avenge  murders.  Concerning  the  Australian  aborigines, 
Sir  George  G  rev  writes : — 

"  The  holiest  duty  a  native  is  called  on  to  perform  is  that  of  avenging 
the  death  of  his  nearest  relation,  for  it  is  his  peculiar  duty  to  do  so; 
until  he  has  fulfilled  this  task,  he  is  constantly  taunted  by  the  old 
women ;  his  wives,  if  he  is  married,  would  soon  quit  liim ;  if  he  is  un- 
married, not  a  single  young  woman  would  speak  to  him;  his  mother 
TO 


320  POLITICAL .  INSTITUTIONS.  ^' 

would  constantly  cry,  and  lament  that  she  should  ever  have  given 
birth  to  so  di'generate  a  son ;  his  fatlier  would  treat  him  with  con- 
tempt, and  reproaches  would  constantly  be -sounded  in_his  ear," 

We  have  uext  to  note  that  for  a  long  time  after  political 
control  has  made  its  appearance,  it  remains  conspicuously 
subordinate  to  this  control  of  general  feeling;  both  because, 
^vhile  there  are  no  developed  governmental  structures,  the 
head  man  has  but  little  ability  to  enforce  his  will,  and  because 
such  ability  as  he  has,  if  unduly  exercised,  causes  desertion. 
All  parts  of  the  world  furnish  illustrations.  In  America 
among  the  Siudce  Indians  "  each  individual  is  his  own  master, 
and  the  only  control  to  which  his  conduct  is  subjected,  is  the 
advice  of  a  chief  supported  by  his  influence  over  the  opinions 
of  the  rest  of  the  tribe."  Of  a  Chinook  chief  we  are  told 
that  his  ability  to  render  service  to  his  neighbours,  and  the 
popularity  which  follows  it,  is  at  once  the  foundation  and  the  . 
measure  of  his  authority."  If  a  Dakota  "  wishes  to  do  mis- 
chief, the  only  way  a  chief  can  influence  him  is  to  give  hun 
something,  or  pay  him  to  desist  from  his  evil  intentions.  The 
chief  has  no  authority  to  act  for  the  tribe,  and  dare  not  do  it." 
And  among  the  Creeks,  more  advanced  in  political  organiza- 
tion though  they  are,  tlie  authority  of  the  elected  chiefs  "  con- 
tinues during  good  behaviour.  The  disapproval  of  the  body 
of  the  ])eople  is  an  effective  bar  to  the  exercise  of  their  powei*s 
and  functions."  Turning  to  Asia,  we  read  that  the 

bais  or  chiefs  of  the  Khirgiz  "  have  little  power  over  them  for 
good  or  evil.  In  consideration  of  their  age  and  blood,  somo 
deference,  to  their  opinions  is  shown,  but  nothing  more."  The 
Ostyaks  "  pay  respect,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  to 
their  chief,  if  wise  and  valiant,  but  this  homage  is  voluntary, 
and  founded  on  personal  regard."  And  of  the  !N^aga  chiefs 
Butler  says — "  Their  orders  are  obeyed  so  far  only  as  they 
accord  with  the  wishes  and  convenience  of  the  comnnini- 
ty."  So,  too,  is  it  in  parts  of  Africa;  as  instance  the 

Koranna  Hottentots.  "  A  cliief  or  captain  presides  over 
each  clan  or  kraal,  being  usually  the  person  of  greatest  pro- 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AND  FORCES.  321 

perty;  but  his  authority  is  extremely  limited,  and  only  obeyed 
so  far  as  it  meets  the  general  approbation."  And  even  among 
the  more  politically-organized  Kafhrs,  there  is  a  kindred  re- 
straint. The  king  "  makes  laws  and  executes  them  according 
to  his  sole  will.  Yet  there  is  a  power  to  balance  his  in  the 
people:  he  governs  only  so  long  as  they  choose  to  obey." 
They  leave  him  if  he  governs  ill. 

In  its  primitive  form,  then,  political  power  is  the  feeling  of 
the  community,  acting  through  an  agency  which  it  has  either 
informally  or  formally  established.  Doubtless,  from  the  be- 
ginning, the  power  of  the  chief  is  in  part  personal :  his  greater 
strength,  courage,  or  cunning,  enables  him  in  some  degi'ee 
to  enforce  his  individual  will.  But,  as  the  evidence  shows, 
his  individual  will  is  but  a  small  factor;  and  the  authority 
he  wields  is  proportionate  to  the  degree  in  w^hich  he  expresses 
the  wills  of  the  rest. 

§  467.  While  this  public  feeling,  which  first  acts  by  itself 
and  then  partly  through  an  agent,  is  to  some  extent  the  feel- 
ing spontaneously  formed  by  those  concerned,  it  is  to  a  much 
larger  extent  the  opinion  imposed  on  them  or  prescribed  for 
them.  In  the  first  place,  the  emotional  nature  prompting 
the  general  mode  of  conduct  is  derived  from  ancestors — is  a 
product  of  all  ancestral  activities;  and  in  the  second  place, 
the  special  desires  which,  directly  or  indirectly,  detenxiine 
the  courses  pursued,  are  induced  during  early  life  by  seniors, 
and  enlisted  on  behalf  of  beliefs  and  usages  which  the  tribe 
inherits.  The  governing  sentiment  is,  in  short,  mainly  the 
accumulated  and  organized  sentiment  of  the  past. 

It  needs  but  to  remember  the  painful  initiation  which,  at  a 
prescribed  age,  each  member  of  a  tribe  undergoes  (submitting 
to  circumcision,  or  knocking  out  of  teeth,  or  gashing  of  the 
flesli  or  tattooing) — it  needs  but  to  remember  that  from  these 
imperative  customs  there  is  no  escape;  to  see  that  the  di- 
rective force  which  exists  before  a  political  agency  arises, 
and  which  afterwards  makes  the  political  agency  its  organ, 


322  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

is  the  gradually-formed  opinion  of  countless  preceding  gene- 
rations; or  rather,  not  the  opinion,  which,  strictly  speaking, 
is  an  intellectual  product  wholly  impotent,  but  the  emotion 
associated  with  the  opinion.  This  we  everywhere  find  to  be 
at  the  outset  the  chief  controlling  power. 

The  notion  of  the  Tupis  that  "  if  they  departed  from  the 
customs  of  their  forefathers  they  should  be  destroyed,"  may 
be  named  as  a  definite  manifestation  of  the  force  with  which 
this  transmitted  opinion  acts.  In  one  of  the  rudest  tribes  of 
the  Indian  hills,  the  Juiings,  less  clothed  than  even  Adam 
and  Eve  are  said  to  have  been,  the  women  long  adhered  to 
their  bunches  of  leaves  in  the  belief  that  change  was  wrong. 
Of  the  Koranna  Hottentots  we  read  that  "  when  ancient 
usages  ^re  not  in  the  way,  every  man  seems  to  act  as  is  right 
in  his  own  eyes."  Though  the  Damara  chiefs  "  have  the 
power  of  governing  arbitrarily,  yet  they  venerate  the  tradi- 
tions and  customs  of  their  ancestors."  Snuth  says,  "  laws 
the  Araucanians  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have,  though  there 
are  many  ancient  usages  which  they  hold  sacred  and  strictly 
observe."  According  to  Brooke,  among  the  Dyaks  custom 
simply  seems  to  have  become  law,  and  breaking  the  custom 
leads  to  a  fine.  '  In  the  minds  of  some  clans  of  the  ^Malagasy, 
''  innovation  and  injury  are  ....  inseparable,  and  the  idea 
of  improvement  altogether  inadmissible." 

This  control  by  inherited  usages  is  not  sim])ly  as  strong 
in  groups  of  men  who  are  politically  unorganized,  or  but^'' 
little  organized,  as  it  is  in  advanced  tribes  and  nations,  but  it 
is  stronger.  As  Sir  John  Lul)bo('k  remarks — ''  Xo  savage  is 
free.  All  over  the  workl  his  daily  life  is  regulated  by  a 
complicated  and  a]>|)arently  most  inconvenient  set  of  customs 
(as  for(;ible  as  laws),  of  (piaint  ])roliibitions  and  ]irivileges." 
Though  one  of  these  rude  societies  appears  structureless, 
yet  its  ideas  and  usages  form  a  kind  of  invisible  framework 
for  it,  serving  rigorously  to  restrain  certain  classes  of  its 
actions.  And  this  invisildc  framework  has  lieen  slowly  and 
unconsciously  shaped,  during  daily  activities  impelled  by  pre- 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AND  FORCES.  323 

vailing  feelings  and  guided  by  prevailing  thoughts,  through 
generations  stretching  back  into  the  far  past. 

In  brief,  then,  before  any  definite  agency  for  social  control 
is  developed,  there  exists  a  control  arising  partly  from  the 
public  opinion  of  the  living,  and  more  largely  from  the  public 
opinion  of  the  dead. 

§  468.  But  now  let  us  note  definitely  a  truth  implied  in 
some  of  the  illustrations  above  given — the  truth  that  when  a 
political  agency  has  been  evolved,  its  power,  largely  de- 
pendent on  present  public  opinion,  is  otherwise  almost  wholly 
dependent  on  past  public  opinion.  The  ruler,  in  part  the 
organ  of  the  wills  of  those  around,  is  in  a  still  greater  degree 
the  organ  of  the  wills  of  those  who  have  passed  away;  and 
his  own  will,  much  restrained  by  the  first,  is  still  more  re- 
strained by  the  last. 

For  his  function  as  regulator  is  mainly  that  of  enforcing 
the  inherited  rules  of  conduct  which  embody  ancestral  senti- 
ments and  ideas.  Everywhere  we  are  shown  this.  Among 
the  Arafuras  such  decisions  as  are  given  by  their  elders,  are 
"  according  to  the  customs  of  their  forefathers,  which  are 
lield  in  the  highest  regard."  So  is  it  with  the  Khirgiz :  "  the 
judgments  of  the  Bis,  or  esteemed  elders,  are  based  on  the 
known  and  universally-recognized  customs."  And  in  Suma- 
f>  tra  "  they  are  governed,  in  their  various  disputes,  by  a  set  of 
'  long-established  customs  (adat),  handed  down  to  them  from 
their  ancestors.  .  .  .  The  chiefs,  in  pronouncing  their  de- 
cisions, are  not  heard  to  say,  ^  so  the  law  directs,'  but  '  such 
is  the  custom.'  " 

As  fast  as  custom  passes  into  law,  the  political  head  be- 
comes still  more  clearly  an  agent  through  w^hom  the  feelings 
of  the  dead  control  the  actions  of  the  living.  That  the  power 
he  exercises  is  mainly  a  power  which  acts  through  him,  we 
see  on  noting  how  little  ability  he  has  to  resist  it  if  he 
wishes  to  do  so.  His  individual  will  is  practically  inoper- 
ative save  where  the  overt  or  tacit  injunctions  of  departed 


324  rOLlTICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

generations  leave  liini  free.  Thus  in  Madagascar,  "  in  eases 
where  there  is  no  hnv,  custom,  or  precedent,  the  word  of  the 
sovereign  is  sufficient.''  Among  the  East  Africans,  "  the 
oulv  Hmit  to  the  despot's  power  is  the  Ada  or  precedent."  Of 
the  Javans,  Raffles  writes — "  the  only  restraint  upon  the  will 
of  the  head  of  the  government  is  the  custom  of  the  country, 
and  the  regard  which  he  has  for  his  character  among  his  sub- 
jects." In  Sumatra  the  people  "  do  not  acknowledge  a  right 
in  the  chiefs  to  constitute  what  laws  they  think  proper,  or  to 
repeal  or  alter  their  ancient  usages,  of  which  they  are  ex- 
tremely tenacious  and  jealous."  And  how  imperative  is  con- 
formity to  the  beliefs  and  sentiments  of  progenitors,  is  shown 
by  the  fatal  results  apt  to  occur  from  disregarding  them. 
"  'The  King  of  Ashantee,  althougli  represented  as  a  despotic  monarch 
....  is  not  in  all  respects  beyond  control.'  He  is  under  an  '  obliga- 
tion to  obsecve  the  national  customs  which  have  been  handed  down  to 
the  people  from  remote  antiquity ;  and  a  practical  disregard  of  this 
obligation,  in  the  attempt  to  change  some  of  the  customs  of  tlieir  fore- 
fathers, cost  Osai  Quamina  his  throne.'  " 

Which  instance  reminds  us  how  commonly,  as  now  among 
the  Hottentots,  as  in  the  past  among  the  ancient  Mexicans, 
and  as  throughout  the  histories  of  civilized  peoples,  rulers 
have  engaged,  on  succeeding  to  power,  not  to  change  the  esta- 
blished order. 

§  4C9.  Doubtless  the  proiiosition  that  a  government  is  in 
the  main  but  an  agency  through  which  works  the  force  of 
public  feeling,  present  and  past,  seems  at  variance  Avith  the 
many  facts  showing  how  great  may  be  the  power  of  a  ruling 
man  himself.  Saying  nothing  of  a  tyrant's  ability  to  take 
lives  for  nominal  reasons  or  none  at  all,  to  make  groundless 
confiscations,  to  transfer  subjects  bodily  from  one  place  to 
another,  to  exact  contributions  of  money  and  labour  without 
stint,  we  are  apparently  shown  by  his  ability  to  begin  and 
carry  on  wars  which  sacrifice  his  subjects  wholesale,  that  his 
single  will  may  over-ride  the  united  wills  of  all  others.  In 
what  way,  then,  must  the  original  statement  be  qualified? 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AND  FORCES.  '325 

While  holding  that,  in  unorganized  groups  of  men,  the 
feeling  manifested  as  public  opinion  controls  political  con- 
duct, just  as  it  controls  the  conduct  distinguished  as  cere- 
monial and  religious;  and  while  holding  that  governing 
agencies,  during  their  early  stages,  are  at  once  the  products 
of  aggregate  feeling,  derive  their  powers  from  it,  and  are 
restrained  by  it;  we  must  admit  that  these  primitive  re- 
lations become  complicated  when,  by  war,  small  groups  are 
compounded  and  re-compounded  into  great  ones.  Where . 
the  society  is  largely  comj^osed  of  subjugated  people  held 
down  by  superior  force,  the  normal  relation  above  described 
no  longer  exists.  We  must  not  expect  to  find  in  a  rule  co- 
ercively  established  by  an  invader,  the  same  traits  as  in  a  rule 
that  has  grown  up  from  within.  Societies  formed  by  eon- 
quest  may  be,  and  frequently  are,  composed  of  two  societies, 
which  are  in  large  measure,  if  not  entirely,  alien;  and  in 
them  there  cannot  arise  a  political  force  from  the  aggregate 
will.  Under  such  conditions  the  political  head  either  de- 
rives his  power  exclusively  from  the  feeling  of  the  dominant 
class,  or  else,  setting  the  diverse  feelings  originated  in  the 
upper  and  lower  classes,  one  against  the  other,  is  enabled  so 
to  make  his  individual  will  the  cliief  factor. 

After  making  which  qualifications,  however,  it  may  still  be 
contended  that  ordinarily,  nearly  all  the  force  exercised  by 
the  governing  agency  originates  from  the  feeling,  if  not  of  the 
whole  connnunity,  yet  of  the  part  which  is  able  to  manifest 
its  feeling.  Though  the  opinion  of  the  subjugated  and  un- 
armed lower  society  becomes  of  little  account  as  a  political 
factor,  yet  the  opinion  of  the  dominant  and  armed  upper 
society  continues  to  be  the  main  cause  of  political  action. 
AVhat  we  are  told  of  the  Congo  people,  that  "  the  king,  who 
reigns  as  a  despot  over  the  people,  is  often  disturbed  in  the 
exercise  of  his  power  by  the  princes  his  vassals," — what  we 
are  told  of  the  desi)otically-governed  Dahomans,  that  ''  the 
ministei's,  war-captains,  and  feetishers  may  be,  and  often  are, 
individually  punished  by  the  king :  collectively  they  are  too 


326  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

strong  for  him,  and  without  their  cordial  cooperation  he  would 
soon  cease  to  reign;  "  is  what  we  recognize  as  having  been 
true,  and  as  being  still  true,  in  various  better-known  societies 
where  the  supreme  head  is  nominally  absolute.  From  the 
time  when  the  Roman  emi)erors  were  chosen  bv  the  soldiers 
and  slain  when  they  did  not  please  them,  to  the  present  time 
when,  as  we  arc  told  in  liussia,  the  desire  of  the  army  often 
determines  the  will  of  the  Czar,  there  have  been  many  illus- 
trations of  the  truth  that  an  autocrat  is  jxditically  strong  or 
weak  according  as  many  or  few  of  the  intluential  classes  give 
him  their  support;  and  that  even  the  sentiments  of  those 
who  are  politically  prostrate  occasionally  affect  political 
action;  as  instance  the  influence  of  Turkish  fanaticism  over 
the  decisions  of  the  Sultan. 

A  number  of  facts  must  be  remembered  if  we  are  rightly 
to  estimate  the  power  of  the  aggregate  will  in  comparison 
with  the  power  of  the  autocrat's  will.  There  is  the  fact  that 
the  autocrat  is  obliged  to  respect  and  maintain  the  great  mass 
of  institutions  and  laws  produced  by  past  sentiments  and 
ideas,  which  have  acquired  a  religious  sanction ;  so  that,  as  in 
ancient  Egypt,  dynasties  of  despots  live  and  die  leaving  the 
social  order  essentially  unchanged.  There  is  the  fact  that  a 
serious  change  of  the  social  order,  at  variance  with  general 
feeling,  is  likely  afterwards  to  be  reversed ;  as  when,  in  Egypt, 
Amenhotep  IV., spite  of  a  reliellion,  succeeded  in  establishing 
a  new  religion,  which  was  abolished  in  a  succeeding  reign ;  and 
there  is  the  allied  fact  that  laws  much  at  variance  with  the 
general  will  prove  abortive,  as,  for  instance,  the  sum])tuarv 
laws  made  by  mediaeval  kings,  which,  continually  re-enacted, 
continually  failed.  There  is  the  fact  that,  supreme  as  he  may 
be,  and  divine  as  the  nature  ascribed  to  him,  the  all-powerful 
monarch  is  often  shackled  by  usages  which  make  his  daily 
life  a  slavery:  the  opinions  of  the  living  oblige  him  to  fulfil 
the  dictates  of  the  dead.  There  is  the  fact  that  if  he  does  not 
conform,  or  if  he  otherwise  produces  by  his  acts  much  ad- 
verse feeling,  his  servants,  civil  and  military,  refuse  to  act, 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AND  FORCES.  327 

or  turn  against  him;  and  in  extreme  cases  there  comes  an 
example  of  "■  despotism  tempered  by  assassination."  And 
there  is  the  final  fact  that  habitually  in  societies  where  an 
offending  autocrat  is  from  time  to  time  removed,  another 
autocrat  is  set  up:  the  implication  being  that  the  average 
sentiment  is  of  a  kind  which  not  only  tolerates  but  desires 
autocracy.  That  which  some  call  loyalty  and  others  call 
servility,  both  creates  the  absolute  ruler  and  gives  him  the 
power  he  exercises. 

But  the  cardinal  truth,  difficult  adequately  to  appreciate,  is 
that  while  the  forms  and  laws  of  each  society  are  the  consoli- 
dated products  of  the  emotions  and  ideas  of  those  who  lived 
throughout  the  past,  they  are  made  operative  by  the  subordi- 
nation of  existing  emotions  and  ideas  to  them.  We  are 
familiar  with  the  thought  of  "  the  dead  hand  "  as  controlling 
the  doipgs  of  the  living  in  the  uses  made  of  property;  but 
the  effect  of"  the  dead  hand  "in  ordering  life  at  large  through 
the  established  political  system,  is  immeasurably  greater. 
That  which,  from  hour  to  hour  in  every  country,  governed 
des|X)tically  or  otherwise,  produces  the  obedience  niaking 
political  action  possible,  is  the  accumulated  and  organized 
sentiment  felt  towards  inherited  institutions  made  sacred  by 
tradition.  Hence  it  is  undeniable  that,  taken  in  its  widest 
acceptation,  the  feeling  of  the  community  is  the  sole  source 
of  political  power: 'in  those  communities,  at  least,  which  are 
not  under  foreign  domination.  It  was  so  at  the  outset  of 
social  life,  and  it  still  continues  substantially  so. 

§  470.  It  has  come  to  be  a  maxim  of  science  that  in  the 
causes  still  at  work,  are  to  be  identified  the  causes  which, 
similarly  at  work  during  past  times,  have  produced  the  state 
of  things  now  existing.  Acceptance  of  this  maxim,  and  pur- 
suit of  the  inquiries  suggested  by  it,  lead  to  verifications  of 
the  foregoing  conclusions. 

For  day  after  day,  every  public  meeting  illustrates  afresh 
this  same  differentiation  characterizing  the  primitive  political 


828  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

agency,  and  illustrates  afresh  the  actions  of  its  respective 
pai'ts.  There  is  habitually  the  great  body  of  the  less  distin- 
guished, forming  the  audience,  whose  share  in  the  proceed- 
ings consists  in  expressing  approval  or  disapproval,  and  say- 
ing aye  or  no  to  the  resolution  proposed.  There  is  the 
smaller  part,  occupying  the  platform — the  men  whose 
wealth,  rank,  or  capacity,  give  them  influence — the  local 
chiefs,  by  whom  the  discussions  are  carried  on.  And  there 
is  the  chosen  head,  commonly  the  man  of  greatest  mark  to  be 
obtained,  who  exercises  a  recognized  power  over  speakers  and 
audience — the  temporary  king.  Even  an  informally -sum- 
moned assemblage  soon  resolves  itself  into  these  divisions 
more  or  less  distinctly;  and  when  the  assemblage  becomes  a 
permanent  body,  as  of  the  men  composing  a  commercial  com- 
pany, or  a  philanthropic  society,  or  a  club,  detiniteness  is 
quickly  given  to  the  three  divisions — president  or  chairman, 
board  or  committee,  proprietors  or  members.  To  which  add 
that,  though  at  first,  like  the  meeting  of  the  primitive  horde 
or  the  modern  public  meeting,  one  of  these  permanent  asso- 
ciations voluntarily  formed,  exhibits  a  distribution  of  powers 
such  that  the  select  few  and  their  head  are  subordinate  to  the 
mass ;  yet,  as  circumstances  determine,  the  proportions  of  the 
respective  powers  usually  change  more  or  less  dettidedly. 
Where  the  members  of  the  mass  besides  being  much  inter- 
ested in  the  transactions,  are  so  placed  that  they  can  easily  co- 
operate, they  hold  in  check  the  select  few  and  their  head; 
but  where  wide  distribution,  as  of  railway-shareholders, 
hinders  joint  action,  the  select  few  become,  in  large  meas- 
ure, an  oligarchy,  and  out  of  the  oligarchy  there  not  unfre- 
quently  grows  an  autocrat:  the  constitution  becomes  a  des- 
potism tem]iered  by  revolution. 

In  saying  that  from  hour  to  hour  proofs  occur  that  the 
force  possessed  by  a  political  agency  is  derived  from  aggregate 
feeling, partly  embodied  in  the  consolidated  system  which  has 
come  down  from  the  past,  and  partly  excited  by  immediate 
circumstances,  I  do  not  refer  only  to  the  proofs  that  among 


POLITICAL  FORMS  AND  FORCES.  329 

ourselves  governmental  actions  are  habitually  thus  deter- 
mined, and  that  the  actions  of  all  minor  bodies,  temporarily  or 
permanently  incorporated,  are  thus  determined.  I  refer, 
rather,  to  illustrations  of  the  irresistible  control  exercised  by 
popular  sentiment  over  conduct  at  large.  Such  facts  as  that, 
while  general  opinion  is  in  favour  of  duelling  law  does  not 
prevent  it,  and  that  sacred  injunctions  backed  by  threats  of 
damnation,  fail  to  check  iniquitous  aggressions  on  foreign 
peoples  when  the  prevailing  passions  prompt  them,  alone  suf- 
tice  to  show  that  legal  codes  and  religious  creeds,  with  the 
agencies  enforcing  them,  are  impotent  in  face  of  an  adverse 
state  of  mind.  On  remembering  the  eagerness  for  public 
applause  and  the  dread  of  public  disgrace  which  stimulate  and 
restrain  men,  we  cannot  question  that  the  diffused  manifesta- 
tions of  feeling  habitually  dictate  their  careers,  when  their 
immediate  necessities  have  been  satisfied.  It  requires  only  to 
contemplate  the  social  code  which  regulates  life,  down  even  to 
the  colour  of  an  evening  neck-tie,  and  to  note  how  those  who 
dare  not  break  this  code  have  no  hesitation  in  smuggling,  to 
see  that  an  unwritten  law  enforced  by  opinion  is  more  per- 
emptory than  a  written  law  not  so  enforced.  And  still  more 
on  observing  that  men  disregard  the  just  cjaims  of  creditors, 
who  for  goods  given  cannot  get  the  money,  while  they  are 
anxious  to  discharge  so-called  debts  of  honour  to  those  who 
liave  rendered  neither  goods  nor  services,  we  are  shown  that 
the  control  of  prevailing  sentiment,  unenforced  by  law  and 
religion,  may  be  more  jiotent  tlian  law  and  religion  together 
wh(>ji  they  are  backed  by  sentiment  less  strongly  manifested. 
Looking  at  the  total  activities 'of  men,  we  are  obliged  to  admit 
that  they  are  still,  as  they  were  at  the  outset  of  social  life, 
guided  by  the  aggregate  feeling,  past  and  present;  and  that 
the  political  agency,  itself  a  gradually-develojied  product  of 
siicli  feeling,  continues  still  to  be  in  the  main  the  vehicle  for 
a  specialized  portion  of  it,  regulatingactions  of  certain  kinds. 
Partly,  of  course,  I  am  obliged  here  to  set  forth  this  general 
truth  as  an  essential  element  of  political  theory.     My  excuse 


330  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

for  insisting  at  soiue  length  on  what  appears  to  be  a  trite  con- 
clusion, must  be  that,  however  far  nominally  recognized,  it  is 
actually  recognized  to  a  very  small  extent.  Even  in  our  own 
country,  \vhere  non-political  agencies  spontaneously  produced 
and  worked  are  many  and  large,  and  still  more  in  most  other 
countries  less  characterized  by  them,  there  is  no  due  con- 
sciousness of  the  truth  that  the  combined  impulses  which 
work  through  political  agencies,  can,  in  the  absence  of  such 
agencies,  produce  others  through  which  to  work.  Politicians 
reason  as  though  State-instrumentalities  have  intrinsic  power, 
which  they  have  not,  and  as  though  the  feeling  which  creates 
them  has  not  intrinsic  power,  which  it  has.  Evidently  their 
actions  must  be  greatly  affected  by  reversal  of  these  ideas. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

POLITICAL    HEADS CHIEFS,    KINGS,  etc. 

*  §  471.  Of  the  three  components  of  the  tri-une  political 
structure  traceable  at  the  outset,  we  have  now  to  follow  the 
development  of  the  first.  Already  in  the  last  two  chapters 
something  has  been  said,  and  more  has  been  implied,  respect- 
ing that  most  important  differentiation  which  results  in  the 
establishment  of  a  headship.  What  was  there  indicated 
under  its  general  aspects  has  here  to  be  elaborated  under  its 
special  aspects. 

''  When  Rink  asked  the  Xicobarians  who  among  them  was 
tlie  chief,  they  replied  laughing,  how  could  he  believe  that 
one  could  have  power  against  so  many?  "  I  quote  this  as  a 
reminder  that  there  is,  at  first,  resistance  to  the  assumption 
(jf  supremacy  by  one  member  of  a  group — resistance  which, 
though  in  sOme  types  of  men  small,  is  in  most  considerable, 
and  in  a  few  very  great.  To  instances  already  given  of  tribes 
))ractically  chiefless  may  be  added,  from  America,  the 
Ilaidahs,  among  whom  "  the  people  seemed  all  equal;  "  the 
( 'aUfornian  tribes,  among  whom  "  each  individual  does  as  he 
likes;  "  the  Xavajos,  among  whom  "  each  is  sovereign  in 
liis  own  right  as  a  warrior;  "  and  from  Asia  the  Angamies, 
who  "  have  no  recognized  liead  or  chief,  although  they  elect 
a  spokesman,  who,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  is  powerless 
and  irresponsible." 

Such  small  subordination  as  rude  groups  show,  occurs  onlv 

331 


332  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Avbcu  the  need  for  joint  action  is  imperative,  and  control  is 
required  to  make  it  efficient.  Instead  of  recalling  before- 
named  examples  of  temporary  cliieftainsliip,  I  may  here  gife 
some  others.  Of  the  Lower  Calif ornians  we  read — "  In  hunt- 
ing and  war  they  have  one  or  more  chiefs  to  lead  them,  who 
are  selected  only  for  the  occasion."  Of  the  Flatheads'  chiefs 
it  is  said  that  ''  with  the  war  their  power  ceases."  xVmong 
the  Sound  Indians  the  chief  "  has  no  authority,  and  only 
directs  the  movements  of  his  band  in  warlike  incursions." 

As  observed  under  another  head,  this  primitive  insubordi- 
nation has  greater  or  less  play  according  as  the  environment 
and  the  habits  of  life  hinder  or  favour  coercion.  The  Lower 
Californians,  above  instanced  as  chiefless,  Baegert  says 
resemble  "  herds  of  wild  swine,  wliicli  run  about  according 
to  their  own  likhig,  being  together  to-day  and  scattered  to- 
morrow, till  they  meet  again  by  accident  at  some  future  time." 
"  The  chiefs  among  the  Chipewyans  are  now  totally  without 
power,"  says  Franklin;  and  these  people  exist  as  small 
migratory  bands.  Of  the  Abipones,  who  are  "  impatient  of 
agriculture  and  a  fixed  home,"  and  "  are  continually  moving 
from  place  to  place,"  Dobrizhoffer  writes — "  they  neither  re- 
vere their  cacique  as  a  master,  nor  ])ay  him  tribute  or  attend- 
ance as  is  usual  with  other  nations."  The  like  holds  under  like 
conditions  with  other  races  remote  in  type.  Of  the  Bedouins 
Burckhardt  remarks  "  the  sheikh  has  no  fixed  authority;  " 
and  according  to  another  writer  "  a  chief,  who  has  drawn  the 
bond  of  allegiance  too  tight,  is  deposed  or  abandoned,  and  be- 
comes a  mere  member  of  a  tribe  or  remains  without  on{\" 

And  now,  having  noted  the  original  absence  of  political 
control,  the  resistance  it  meets  with,  and  the  circumstances 
which  facilitate  evasion  of  it,  we  may  ask  what  causes  aid  its 
growth.  There  are  several;  and  chieftainship  becomes  set- 
tled in  proportion  as  they  cooperate. 

§  472.  Among  the  menibcrs  of  the  i)riniitive  gi'ouj),  slight- 
ly unlike  in  various  ways  and  degrees,  there  is  sure  to  be  some 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  333 

one  who  has  a  recognized  superiority.  This  superiority  may 
be  of  several  kinds  which  we  will  briefly  glance  at. 
♦  Though  in  a  sense  abnormal,  the  cases  must  be  recognized 
in  which  the  sui3eriority  is  that  of  an  alien  immigrant.  The 
headmen  of  the  Khonds  "  are  usually  descended  from  some 
daring  adventurer  "  of  Hindoo  blood.  Forsyth  remarks  the 
like  of  "  most  of  the  chiefs  "  in  the  highlands  of  Central  Asia. 
And  the  traditions  of  Bochica  among  the  Chibchas,  Ama- 
livaca  among  the  Tamanacs,  and  Quetzalcoatl  among  the 
Mexicans,  imply  kindred  origins  of  chieftainships.  Here, 
however,  w^e  are  mainly  concerned  with  superiorities  arising 
within  the  tribe. 

The  first  to  be  named  is  that  which  goes  with  seniority. 
Though  age,  when  it  brings  incapacity,  is  often  anaong  rude 
peoples  treated  with  such  disregard  that  the  old  are  killed  or 
left  to  die,  yet,  so  long  as  capacity  remains,  the  greater  expe- 
rience accompanying  age  generally  insures  influence.  The 
chiefless  Esquimaux  show  "  deference  to  seniors  and  strong 
men."  Burchell  says  that  over  the  Bushmen,  old  men  seem 
to  exercise  the  authority  of  chiefs  to  some  extent;  and  the 
like  holds  true  with  the  natives  of  Australia.  Among  the 
Fuegians  "  the  word  of  an  old  man  is  accepted  as  law  by  the 
young  people."  Each  party  of  Rock  Veddahs  "  has  a  head- 
man, the  most  energetic  senior  of  the  tribe,"  who  divides  the 
honey,  c%c.  Even  with  sundry  peoples  more  advanced  the 
like  liolds.  Tlie  Dyaks  in  North  Borneo  "  have  no  established 
chiefs,  but  follow  the  counsels  of  the  old  man  to  whom  they 
are  related;  "  and  Edwards  says  of  the  ungoverned  Caribs 
that  "  to  their  old  men,  indeed^  they  allowed  some  kind  of 
authority." 

Naturally,  in  rude  societies,  the  strong  hand  gives  predomi- 
nance. Apart  from  the  influence  of  age,  '"  bodily  strength 
alone  procures  distinction  among  "  the  Bushmen.  The  lead- 
ers of  the  Tasmanians  were  tall  and  powerful  men:  "  instead 
of  an  elective  or  hereditary  chieftaincy,  the  place  of  connnand 
was  yielded  up  to  the  l)ully  of  the  tribe."      A  remark  of 


334  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Sturt's  implies  a  like  origin  of  supremacy  among  the  Austra- 
lians. Similarly  in  Suutli  America.  Of  people  on  the 
Tapajos,  Bates  tells  us  that  '*  the  footmarks  of  tiie  chief  couW 
be  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  their  great  size  and  the 
length  of  the  stride."  And  in  Bedouin  tribes  "  the  tiercest, 
the  strongest,  and  the  craftiest  obtains  complete  mastery  over 
his  fellows."  During  higher  stages  physical  vigour  long  con- 
tinues to  be  an  all-important  qualilication;  as  in  Homeric 
Greece,  where  even  age  did  not  compensate  for  decline  of 
strength:  "  an  old  chief,  such  as  Peleus  and  Laertes,  cannot 
retain  his  position,"  Everyone  knows  that  throughout 
Mediaeval  Europe,  maintenance  of  headsliip  largely  depended 
on  bodily  prowess.  And  even  but  two  centuries  ago  in  the 
Western  Isles  of  Scotland,  ''  every  Heir,  or  young  Chieftain 
of  a  Tribe,  was  oblig'd  in  Honour  to  give  a  publick  Specimen 
of  his  Valour,  before  he  was  own'd  and  dcchir'd  Governor." 

Mental  superiority,  alone  or  joined  with  other  attributes, 
is  a  common  cause  of  predominance.  With  the  Snake  Indians, 
the  chief  is  no  more  than  "  the  most  confidential  person 
among  the  warriors."  Schoolcraft  says  of  the  chief  acknow- 
ledged by  the  Creeks  that  "  he  is  eminent  with  the  people 
only  for  his  superior  talents  and  political  abilities;  "  and  that 
over  the  Comanches  "  the  position  of  a  chief  is  not  hereditary, 
but  the  result  of  his  own  superior  cunning,  knowledge,  or 
success  in  war."  A  chief  of  the  Coroados  is  one  "  who  by  his 
strength,  cunning,  and  courage  had  obtained  some  command 
over  them."  And  the  Ostiaks  "  pay  respect,  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  word,  to  their  chief,  if  wise  and  valiant;  but  this 
homage  is  voluntary,  and  not  a  prerogative  of  his  position." 

Yet  another  source  of  governmental  power  in  primitive 
tribes  is  largeness  of  possessions:  wealth  being  at  once  an 
indirect  mark  of  superiority  and  a  direct  cause  of  influence. 
AVitli  the  Tacullies  "  any  person  may  become  a  miuty  or  chief 
wlio  will  occasionally  ])rovid('  a  village  feast."  "  Among  the 
Tolewas,  in  Del  Xorte  Country,  money  makes  the  chief." 
The  Spokanes  have  "  no  regularly  recognized  chief,"  "  but 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  335 

an  intelligent  and  rich  man  often  controls  tlie  tribe  by  his 
influence."  Of  the  chieliess  Navajos  Vve  read  that  "  every 
rihh  man  has  many  dependants,  and  these  dependants  are 
obedient  to  his  will,  in  peace  and  in  war."  And  to  other 
evidence  that  it  is  the  same  in  Africa,  may  be  added  the  state- 
ment of  Heugiin  that  "  a  Dor  chief  is  generally  the  richest 
and  most  reputable  man  of  the  village  or  neighbourhood." 

But,  naturally,  in  societies  not  yet  politically  developed, 
acknowledged  superiority  is  ever  liable  to  be  competed  with 
or  replaced  by  superiority  arising  afresh. 

"If  an  Arab,  accotopanied  by  his  own  relations  only,  has  been  suc- 
cessful on  many  predatory  excursions  against  the  enemy,  he  is  joined 
by  other  friends;  and  if  his  success  still  continues,  he  obtains  the- 
reputation  of  being  '  lucky  ;  '  and  he  thus  establishes  a  kind  of  second, 
or  inferior  agydship  in  the  tribe." 
So  in  Sumatra — 

"A  commanding  aspect,  an  insinuating  manner,  a  ready  fluency  in 
discourse,  and  a  penetration  and  sagacity  in  unravelling  the  little  in- 
tricacies of  their  disputes,  are  qualities  which  seldom  fail  to  procure 
to  their  possessor  respect  and  influence,  sometimes,  perhaps,  superior 
to  that  of  an  acknowledged  chief . " 

And  supplantings  of  kindred  kinds  occur  among  the  Tongans 
and  the  Dyaks. 

At  the  outset  then,  what  we  before  distinguished  as  the 
princ^iple  of  efficiency  is  the  sole  principle  of  organization. 
Such  political  headship  as  exists,  is  acquired  by  one  whose 
fitness  asserts  itself  in  the  form  of  greater  age,  superior 
prowess,  stronger  will,  wider  knowledge,  quicker  insight,  or 
larger  wealth.  But  evidently  supremacy  which  thus  depends 
exclusively  on  personal  attributes  is  but  transitory.  It  is 
liable  to  be  superseded  by  the  supremacy  of  some  more  able 
man  from  time  to  time  arising;  and  if  not  superseded,  is 
ended  by  death.  We  have,  then,  to  inquire  how  permanent 
chieftainship  becomes  established.  Before  doing  this,  how- 
ever, we  must  consider  more  fully  the  two  kinds  of  superiority 
which  especially  conduce  to  chieftainship,  and  their  modes  of 
operation. 

80 


336  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§  473.  As  bodily  vigour  is  a  cause  of  predominance  within 
the  tribe  on  occasions  daily  occurring,  still  more  on  occasions 
ef  war  is  it,  when  joined  with  courage,  a  cause  of  predomi- 
nance. War,  therefore,  tends  to  make  more  pronounced  any 
authority  of  this  kind  which  is  incipient.  Whatever  re- 
luctance other  members  of  the  tribe  have  to  recognize  the 
leadershi])  of  any  one  member,  is  likely  to  be  over-ridden  by 
their  desire  for  safety  when  recognition  of  his  leadership 
furthers  that  safety. 

This  rise  of  the  strongest  and  most  courageous  warrior  to 
power  is  at  first  spontaneous,  and  afterwards  by  agreement 
more  or  less  definite:  sometimes  joined  with  a  process  of 
testing.  Where,  as  in  Australia,  each  *'  is  esteemed  by  the 
rest  only  according  to  his  dexterity  in  throwing  or  evading  a 
spear,"  it  is  inferable  that  such  superior  capacity  for  war  as 
is  displayed,  generates  of  itself  such  temporary  chieftainship 
as  exists.  AVhere,  as  among  the  Comanches,  any  one  who 
distinguishes  himself  by  taking  many  "  horses  or  scali)s,  may 
aspire  to  the  honours  of  chieftaincy,  and  is  gradually  inducted 
by  a  tacit  popular  consent,"  this  natural  genesis  is  clearly 
shown.  Very  commonly,  however,  there  is  deliberate  choice ; 
as  by  the  Flatheads,  among  whom,  "  except  by  the  war-chiefs 
no  real  authority  is  exercised."  Skill,  strength,  courage,  and 
endurance  are  in  some  cases  deliberately  tested.  The  King 
of  Tonga  has  to  undergo  a  trial:  three  spears  are  tllro^^^^  at 
him,  which  he  must  ward  off.  "  The  ability  to  climb  up  a 
large  pole,  well-greased,  is  a  necessary  qualification  of  a  fight- 
ing chief  among  the  Sea  Dyaks;  "  and  St.  John  says  that  in 
some  cases,  "  it  was  a  custom  in  order  to  settle  who  should  be 
chief,  for  the  rivals  to  go  out  in  search  of  a  head :  tlie  first  in 
finding  one  being  victor." 

-Moreover,  the  need  for  an  efficient  leader  tends  ever  to 
re-establish  chieftainship  wliere  it  has  become  only  nominal 
or  feeble.  Edward  says  of  the  Taribs  that  "  in  war,  experi- 
ence had  taught  them  that  suhordination  was  as  requisite  as 
courage;  they  therefore  elected  their  captains  in  their  general 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  337 

assemblies  with  great  solemnity ; "  and  '*  put  their  pretensions 
to  the  proof  with  circumstances  of  outrageous  barbarity." 
Similarly,  "  although  the  Abipones  neither  fear  their  cacique 
as  a  judge,  nor  honour  him  as  a  master,  yet  his  fellow-soldiers 
follow  him  as  a  leader  and  governor  of  the  war,  whenever 
the  enemy  is  to  be  attacked  or  repelled." 

These  and  like  facts,  of  which  there  are  abundance,  have 
three  kindred  implications.  One  is  that  continuity  of  war 
conduces  to  permanence  of  chieftainship.  A  second  is  that, 
with  increase  of  his- influence  as  successful  military  head,  the 
chief  gains  influence  as  civil  head.  A  third  is  that  there  is 
thus  initiated  a  union,  maintained  through  subsequent  phases 
of  social  evolution,  between  military  supremacy  and  political 
supremacy.  Not  only  among  the  uncivilized  Hottentots, 
Malagasy,  and  others,  is  the  chief  or  king  head  of  the  army — 
not  only  among  such  semi-civilized  peoples  as  the  ancient 
Peruvians  and  Mexicans,  do  we  find  the  monarch  one  with 
the  commander-in-chief;  but  the  histories  of  extinct  and 
surviving  nations  all  over  the  world  exemplify  the  connexion. 
In  Egypt  "  in  the  early  ages,  the  offices  of  king  and  general 
were  inseparable."  Assyrian  sculptures  and  inscriptions 
represent  the  despotic  ruler  as  also  the  conquering  soldier;  as 
do  the  records  of  the  Hebrews.  Civil  and  military  headship 
were  united  among  the  Homeric  Greeks;  and  in  primitive 
Rome  "  the  general  was  ordinarily  the  king  himself."  That 
throughout  European  history  it  has  been  so,  and  partially 
continues  so  even  now  in  the  more  militant  societies,  needs 
no  showing. 

How  command  of  a  wider  kind  follows  military  command, 
we  cannot  readily  see  in  societies  which  have  no  records:  we 
can  but  infer  that  along  with  increased  power  of  coercion 
which  the  successful  head-warriors  gains,  natm'ally  goes  the 
exercise  of  a  stronger  rule  in  civil  affairs.  That  this  has 
been  so  among  pe<)ples  who  have  known  histoi'ies,  there  is 
proof.  Of  the  primitive  Germans  Sohm  remarks  that  the 
Roman  invasions  had  one  result: — 


33S  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

"  The  kingship  became  united  with  the  leadership  (become  permanent) 
of  the  army,  and,  as  a  consequence,  raised  itself  to  apoicer  [institution] 
in  the  State.  The  military  subordination  under  the  king-leader  fur- 
thered  political   subordination    under   the   king Kingship 

after  the  invasions  is  a  kingship  clothed  with  supreme  rights — a  king- 
ship in  om*  sense." 

In  like  manner  it  is  observed  bv  Ranke  that  during  the  wars 
with  the  English  in  the  fifteenth  century — 
' '  The  French  monarchy,  whilst  struggling  for  its  very  existence, 
acquired  at  the  same  time,  and  as  the  result  of  the  struggle,  a  tirmer 
organization.  The  exi^edieuts  adopted  to  carry  on  the  contest  grew, 
as  in  other  important  cases,  to  national  institutions.'' 
And  modern  instances  of  the  relation  between  successful 
militancy  and  the  strengthening  of  political  control,  are  fur- 
nished by  the  career  of  Xapoleon  and  the  recent  history  of 
the  German  Emj)ire. 

Headship  of  the  society,  then,  commonly  beginning  with 
the  influence  gained  by.  the  warrior  of  greatest  power,  bold- 
ness, and  capacity,  becomes  established  where  activity  in 
war  gives  opportunity  for  his  superiority  to  show  itself  and 
to  generate  subordination;  and  thereafter  the  growth  of  civil 
governorship  continues  primarily  related  to  the  exercise  of 
militant  functions. 

§474.  Very  erroneous,  however,  would  be  the  idea  formed 
if  no  further  origin  fur  political  headship  were  named.  There 
is  a  kind  of  influence,  in  some  cases  operating  alone  and  in 
other  cases  cooperating  with  that  above  specified,  whieli  is  all- 
inii)oi'tant.  I  mean  the  influence  possessed  by  the  medicine- 
man. 

Tliat  this  arises  as  early  as  the  other,  can  scarcely  be  said; 
since,  until  the  ghost-theory  takes  shape,  there  is  no  origin 
for  it.  But  when  belief  in  the  spirits  of  the  dead  becomes 
current,  the  medicine-man,  professing  ability  to  control  them, 
and  inspiring  faith  in  his  pretensions,  is  regarded  with  a 
fear  which  prompts  obedience.  When  we  read  of  the 
Thlinkeets  that  the  ''  supreme  feat  of  a  conjuror's  ])u\ver  is  to 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  339 

throw  one  of  his  liege  spirits  into  the  body  of  one  who 
refuses  to  believe  in  his  power,  upon  which  the  possessed  is 
taken  with  swooning  and  fits,"  we  ma}'  imagine  the  dread  he 
excites,  and  the  sway  he  consequently  gains.  From  some  of 
the  lowest  races  upwards  we  find  illustrations.  Fitzroy  says 
of  the  "  doctor-wizard  among  the  Fuegians  "  that  he  is  the 
most  cunning  and  most  deceitful  of  his  tribe,  and  that  he  has 
great  influence  over  his  companions.  '"  Though  the  Tas- 
manians  were  free  from  the  despotism  of  rulers,  they  were 
swayed  by  the  counsels,  governed  by  the  arts,  or  terrified  by 
the  fears,  of  certain  wise  men  or  doctors.  These  could  not 
only  mitigate  suffering,  but  inflict  it."  A  chief  of  the 
Haidahs  ''  seems  to  be  the  principal  sorcerer,  and  indeed  to 
possess  little  authority  save  from  the  connexion  with  the 
preterhuman  powers."  The  Dakota  medicine-men — 
"Are  the  greatest  rascals  in  the  tribe,  and  possess  immense  influence 
over  the  minds  of  the  young,  who  are  brought  up  in  the  belief  of 

their  supernatural  powers The  war-chief,  who  leads  the 

party  to  war,  is  always  one  of  these  medicine-men,  and  is  believed  to 
have  the  power  to  guide  the  party  to  success,  or  save  it  from  defeat." 
Among  more  advanced  peoples  in  Africa,  supposed  abilities  to 
control  invisible  beings  similarly  give  influence — strengthen- 
ing authority  otherwise  gained.  It  is  so  with  the  Amazulu : 
a  chief  "  practises  magic  on  another  chief  before  fighting 
with  him ;  "  and  his  followers  have  great  confidence  in  him 
if  he  has  much  repute  as  a  magician.  Hence  the  sway 
acquired  by  Langalibalele,  who,  as  Bishop  Colenzo  says, 
*'  knows-  well  the  composition  of  that  intehzi  [used  for 
controlling  the  weather]  ;  and  he  knows  well,  too,  the  war- 
medicine,  i.  e.,  its  component  parts,  being  himself  a  doctor." 
Still  better  is  seen  the  governmental  influence  thus  acquired 
in  the  case  of  the  king  of  Obbo,  who  in  time  of  drought  .calls 
his  subjects  together  and  explains  to  them — 

"how  much  he  regrets  that  their  conduct  has  compelled  him  to  afflict 
them  with  unfavourable  weather,  but  that  it  is  their  own  fault.  .  ,  . 
He  must  liave  goats  and  corn.  '  No  gnats,  no  rain ;  that's  our  contract, 
my  friends,  \says  Katchiba.     .    .    .    Should  his  people  complain  of  too 


340  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

much  rain,  he  threatens  to  pour  storms  and  lightning  upon  tlicm  for 
ever,  iinless  they  bring  him  so  many  hundred  baskets  of  corn,  &c., 
«&c.  .  .  .  His  subjects  have  the  most  thorough  confidence  in  his  power." 
And  the  king  is  similarly  supposed  to  exercise  control  oNcr  tlic 
weather  among  the  people  of  Loango. 

A  like  connexion  is  traceable  in  the  records  of  various 
extinct  peoples  in  both  hemispheres.  Of  Iluitzilopochtli,  the 
founder  of  the  jNIexican  power,  we  read  that  "  a  great  wizard 
he  had  been,  and  a  sorcerer;  "  and  every  Mexican  king  on 
ascending  the  throne  had  to  swear  "  to  make  the  sun  go  his 
course,  to  make  the  clouds  pour  down  rain,  to  make  the  rivers 
run,  and  all  fruits  to  ripen."  lieproaching  his  subjects  for 
want  of  obedience,  a  Chibcha  ruler  told  them  they  knew 
"  that  it  was  in  his  power  to  afflict  them  with  pestilence, 
small-pox,  rheumatism,  and  fever,  and  to  make  to  grow  as 
much  grass,  vegetables,  and  plants  as  they  wanted."  Ancient 
Egyptian  records  yield  indications  of  a  similar  early  belief. 
Thothmes  III.,  after  being  deified,  "  was  considered  as  the 
luck-bringing  god  of  the  country,  and  a  preserver  against  the 
evil  infliience  of  wicked  spirits  and  magicians."  And  it  was 
til  us  with  the  Jcavs: — 

"  Ral)binical  writings  are  never  weary  of  enlarging  upon  the  magical 
power  and  knowledge  of  Solomon.  He  was  represented  as  not  only 
king  oY  the  whole  earth,  but  also  as  reigning  over  devils  and  evil  spirits, 
and  having  the  power  of  expelling  them  from  the  bodies  of  men  and 
animals  and  also  of  delivering  j)eople  to  them." 
The  traditions  of  European  i)eoples  f  urnisli  kindred  evidence. 
As  before  shown  (§  198)  stories  in  the  Heiins-kringla  saga 
imply  that  the  Scandinavian  ruler,  Odin,  was  a  medicine- 
man ;  as  were  also  Xiort  and  Frey,  his  successors.  And  after 
recalling  the  supernatural  weapons  and  snjx'rnatural  ndiii^vc- 
ments  of  early  heroic  kings,  we  can  scarcely  (lonl)t  that  with 
therii  were  in  some  cases  associated  those  ascribed  magical 
characters  whence  have  descended  the  supposed  powers  of 
kings  to  cure  diseases  by  touching.  "\Ye  shall  the  less  doubt 
this  on  finding  that  like  powers  were  attributed  to  subordinate 
rulers  of  early  origin.    There  existed  certain  Breton  nobles 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  341 

whose  spittle  and  touch  were  said  to  have  curative  pro- 
perties. 

Thus  one  important  factor  in  the  genesis  of  political  head- 
ship, originates  with  the  ghost  theory,  and  the  concomitant 
rise  of  a  belief  that  some  men,  having  acquired  power  over 
ghosts,  can  obtain  their  aid.  Generally  the  chief  and  the 
medicine-man  are  separate  persons;  and  there  then  exists 
between  them  some  conflict :  they  have  competing  authorities. 
But  where  the  ruler  joins  with  his  power  naturally  gained, 
this  ascribed  supernatural  power,  his  authority  is  necessarily 
much  increased.  Recalcitrant  members  of  his  tribe  who 
might  dare  to  resist  him  if  bodily  prowess  alone  could  decide 
the  struggle,  do  not  dare  if  they  think  he  can  send  one  of  his 
posse  comitatus  of  ghosts  to  torment  them.  That  rulers  de- 
sire to  unite  the  two  characters,  we  have,  in  one  case,  distinct 
proof.  Canon  Callaway  tells  us  that  among  the  Amazulu,  a 
chief  will  endeavour  to  discover  a  medicine-man's  secrets  and 
afterwards  kill  him. 

§  475.  Still  there  recurs  the  question — How  does  per- 
manent political  headship  arise?  Such  political  headship  as 
results  from  bodily  power,  or  courage,  or  sagacity,  even  when 
strengthened  by  supposed  supernatural  aid,  ends  with  the 
life  of  any  savage  who  gains  it.  The  principle  of  efficiency, 
physical  or  mental,  while  it  tends  to  produce  a  temporary 
differentiation  into  ruler  and  ruled,  does  not  suffice  to  pro- 
duce a  permanent  differentiation.  There  has  to  cooperate 
another  principle,  to  which  we  now  pass. 

Already  we  have  seen  that  even  in  the  rudest  groups, 
age  gives  some  predominance.  Among  both  Fuegians  and 
Australians,  not  only  old  men,  but  also  old  women,  exercise 
authority.  And  that  this  respect  for  age,  apart  from  other 
distinction,  is  an  important  factor  in  establishing  political 
suboi*dination,  is  implied  by  the  curious  fact  that,  in  sundry 
advanced  societies  characterized  by  extreme  governmental 
coercion,  the  respect  due  to  age  takes  precedence  of  all  other 


342  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

respect.  Sharpe  remarks  of  ancient  Egypt  that  "  here  as  in 
Persia  and  Judiea  the  king's  mother  often  held  rank  above  his 
Avife."  In  China,  notwithstanding  the  inferior  position  of 
women  socially  and  domestically,  there  exists  this  supremacy 
of  the  female  parent,  second  only  to  that  of  the  male  parent; 
and  the  like  holds  in  Japan.  As  supporting  the  inference 
that  subjection  to  parents  prepares  the  way  for  subjection  to 
rulers,  I  may  add  a  converse  fact.  Of  the  Coroados,  whose 
groups  are  so  incoherent,  we  read  that — 

"The  paj6,  howeVer,  has  as  little  influence  over  the  will  of  the  multi- 
tude as  any  other,  for  they  live  without  any  boud  of  social  union, 
neither  under  a  republican  nor  a  patriarchial  form  of  government. 
Even  family  ties  are  very  loose  among  them  ....  there  is  no 
regular  precedency  between  the  old  and  the  young,  for  age  appears  to 
enjoy  no  respect  among  them." 

And,  as  re-inforcing  this  converse  fac't,  I  may  call  attention 
to  §  317,  where  it  was  shown  that  the  Mantras,  the  Caribs, 
the  Mapuches,  the  Brazilian  Indians,  the  Gallinomeros,  the 
Shoshones,  the  Xavajos,  the  Californians,  the  Comanches, 
who  submit  very  little  or  not  at  all  to  chiefly  rule,  display  a 
filial  submission  which  is  mostly  small  and  ceases  early. 

But  now  under  what  circumstances  does  respect  for  age 
take  that  pronounced  fonn  seen  in  societies  distinguished  by 
great  political  subordination?  It  was  shown  in  §  319  that 
when  men,  passing  from  the  Imnting  stage  into  the  pastoral 
stage,  began  to  wanik'r  in  search  of  food  for  their  domesti- 
cated animals,  they  fell  into  conditions  favouring  the  forma- 
tion of  patriarchal  groups.  AVe  saw  that  in  the  primitive 
pastoral  horde,  the  man,  released  from  those  earlier  tribal 
influences  which  interfere  with  paternal  power,  and  prevent 
settled  relations  of  the  sexes,  was  so  placed  as  to  acquire 
headship  of  a  coherent  cluster:  the  father  became  by  right 
of  the  strong  hand,  leader,  owner,  master,  of  wife,  children, 
and  all  he  carried  with  him.  There  were  enumerated  the 
influences  which  tended  to  make  the  eldest  male  a  patriarch; 
and  it  was  shown  that  not  only  the  Semites,  Aryans,  and 
Turanian  races  of  Asia  have  exemplified  this  relation  be- 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  343 

tween  pastoral  habits  and  the  patriarchal  organization,  but 
that  it  recurs  in  South  African  races. 

Be  the  causes  what  they  may,  however,  we  find  abundant 
proof  that  this  family-supremacy  of  the  eldest  male,  common 
among  pastoral  peoples  and  peoples  who  have  passed  through 
the  pastoral  stage  into  the  agricultural  stage,  develops  into 
political  supremacy.  Of  -the  Santals  Hunter  says — 
"  The  village  government  is  purely  patriarchial.  Each  hamlet  has  an 
original  founder  (the  Manjhi-Hanan),  who  is  regarded  as  the  father  of 
tlie  community.  He  receives  divine  honours  in  the  sacred  grove,  and 
transmits  his  authority  to  his  descendants." 

Of  the  compound  family  among  the  Khonds  we  read  in  Mac- 
pherson  that — 

"There  it  [paternal  authority]  reigns  nearly  absolute.  It  is  a  Khond's 
maxim  that  a  man's  father  is  his  god,  disobedience  to  whom  is  the 
greatest  crime ;  and  all  the  members  of  a  family  live  united  in  strict 
subordination  to  its  head  until  his  death." 

And  the  growth  of  simple  groups  into  compound  and 
doubly-compound  groups,  acknowledging  the  authority  of 
one  who  unites  family  headship  with  political  headship,  has 
been  made  familiar  by  Sir  Henry  Maine  and  others  as  com- 
mon to  early  Greeks,  Romans,  Teutons,  and  as  still  affecting- 
social  organization  among  Hindoos  and  Sclavs. 

Here,  then,  we  have  making  its  appearance,  a  factor  which 
conduces  to  permanence  of  political  headship.  Aswas  pointed 
out  in  a  foregoing  chapter,  while  succession  by  efficiency 
gives  plasticity  to  social  organization,  succession  by  inherit- 
ance gives  it  stability.    ISTo  settled  arrangement  can  arise  in\ 
a  primitive  community  so  long  as  the  function  of  each  unit/ 
is  determined  exclusively  by  his  fitness;   since,  at  his  death, I 
the  arrangement,  in  so  far  as  he  was  a  part  of  it,  must  be  I 
recommenced.     Only  when  his  place  is  forthwith  filled  by', 
one  whose  claim  is  admitted,  does  there  begin  a  differentia-  ' 
tion  which  survives  through  successive  generations.     And 
evidently  in  the  earlier  stages  of  social  evolution,  while  the 
coherence  is  small  and  the  want  of  structure  great,  it  is  requi-  \ 
site  that  the  principle  of  inheritance  should,  especially  in  re- 


34:1:  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

spect  of  the  political  Leadsliip,  predominate  over  the  principle 
of  efficiency.    Contemplation  of  the  facts  will  make  this  clear. 

§  47G,  Two  primary  forms  of  hereditary  succession  have 
to  be  considered.  The  system  of  kinship  throngli  females, 
common  among  rude  peoples,  results  in  descent  of  property 
and  power  to  brothers  or  to  the  children  of  sisters;  while  the 
system  of  kinship  through  males,  general  among  advanced 
peoples,  results  in  descent  of  property  and  power  to  sons  or 
daughters.  We  have  first  to  note  that  succession  throligh 
females  is  less  conducive  to  stable  political  headships  than  is 
succession  through  males. 

From  the  fact  named  when  treating  of  the  domestic  rela- 
tions, that  the  system  of  kinship  through  females  arises  where 
unions  of  the  sexes  are  temporary  or  unsettled,  it  is  to  be 
inferred  that  this  system  characterizes  societies  which  are 
unadvanced  in  all  ways,  political  included.  We  saw  in  §  294, 
that  irregular  connexions  involve  paucity  and  feebleness  of 
known  relationships,  and"  a  type  of  family  the  successive 
links  of  which  are  not  strengthened  by  so  many  collateral 
links.  A  common  consequence  is  that  along  with  descent 
through  females  there  goes  no  chieftainship,  or  such  chief- 
tainship as  exists  is  established  by  merit,  or,  if  here- 
ditary, is  usually  unstable.  The  Australians  and  Tasmanians 
supply  typical  instances.  Among  the  Ilaidahs  and  other 
savage  peoples  of  Columbia,  "  rank  is  nominally  hereditary, 
for  the  most  part  by  the  female  line;  "  and  actual  chieftain- 
ship "  depends  to  a  great  extent  on  wealth  and  ability  in 
war."  Of  other  Xorth  American  tribes  the  Chippewas, 
Coraanches,  Snakes,  show  us  the  system  of  kinship 
through  females  joined  with  either  absence  of  establislied 
headship  or  very  feeble  development  of  it.  Passing  to  South 
America,  the  Arawaks  and  the  Waraus  may  be  instanced  as 
having  female  descent  and  almost  nominal,  though  here- 
ditary, chiefs;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  Caribs. 

A  group  of  facts  having  much  significance  ma}'  now  be 


POLITICAL  HEADS-CHIEFS,   KINGS,  ETC.  345 

noted.  Ill  many  societies  where  descent  of  property  and 
rank  in  the  female  line  is  the  rule,  an  exception  is  made  in 
the  case  of  the  political  head ;  and  societies  exemplifying  this 
exception  are  societies  in  which  political  headship  is  relatively 
stable.  Though  in  Fiji  there  is  kinship  through  females,  yet, 
according  to  Seemann,  the  ruler,  chosen  from  the  members  of 
the  royal  family,  is  "  generally  the  son  "  of  the  late  i-uler. 
In  Tahiti,  where  the  two  highest  ranks  follow  the  primitive 
system  of  descent,  male  succession  to  rulership  is  so  pro- 
nounced that,  on  the  birth  of  an  eldest  son  the  father  becomes 
simply  a  regent  on  his  behalf.  And  among  the  Malagasy, 
along  with  a  prevailing  kinship  through  females,  the  sover- 
eign either  nominates  his  successor,  or,  failing  this,  the  nobles 
appoint,  and  "  unless  positive  disqualification  exists,  the  eldest 
son  is  usually  chosen."  Africa  furnishes  evidence  of 

varied  kinds.  Though  the  Congo  people,  the  Coast  Xegroes, 
and  the  Inland  XegToes  have  foi-med  communities  of  some 
size  and  complexity,  notwithstanding  that  kinship  through 
females  obtains  in  the  succession  to  the  throne,  yet  we  read  of 
the  first  that  allegiance  is  "  vague  and  uncertain;  "  of  the  sec- 
ond that,  save  where  free  in  form,  the  government  is  "  an  in- 
secure and  short-lived  monarchic  despotism;"  and  of  the  third 
that,  where  the  government  is  not  of  mixed  type,  it  is  "a  rigid 
but  insecure  despotism."  Meanwhile,  in  the  two  most  ad- 
vanced and  powerful  states,  stability  of  political  headship  goes 
along  with  departure,  incipient  or  entire,  from  succession 
through  females.  In  Ashantee,  claims  to  the  crown  stand  in 
this  order — "  the  brother,  the  sister's  son,  the  son;  "  and  in 
Dahomey  there  is  male  primogeniture.  Further  instances 

of  this  transition  are  yielded  by  extinct  American  civiliza- 
tions. The  Aztec  conquerors  of  Mexico  brought  with  them 
the  system  of  kiushi]i  through  females,  and  consequent  law  of 
succession ;  but  this  law  of  succession  was  partially,  or  com- 
pletely, changed  to  succession  through  males.  In  Tezcuco 
and  Tlacopan  (divisions  of  Mexico)  the  eldest  son  inherited 
the  kingship;  and  in  Mexico  the  choice  of  a  king  was  limited 


346  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

to  tlie  sons  and  brothers  of  tlio  preceiliiii;-  king.  Then,  of 
ancient  Peru,  Goniara  says — ''  nephews  inherit,  and  not  sons, 
except  in  the  case  of  the  Yncas:  "  this  exception  in  the 
case  of  the  Yncas,  having  the  strange  peculiarity  that 
"  the  first-born  of  this  brother  and  sister  [)'.  c,  the  Ynca  and 
his  principal  wife]  was  the  legitimate  heir  to  the  king- 
dom "  :  an  an-angemcnt  which  made  the  line  of  descent 
unusually  narrow  and  definite.  And  here  we  are 

brought  back  to  Africa  by  the  parallelism  between  the  case 
of  Peru  and  that  of  Egypt.  "  In  Egypt  it  was  maternal 
descent  that  gave  the  right  to  property  and  to  the  throne. 
The  same  prevailed  in  Ethiopia.  If  tlie  monarch  married 
out  of  the  royal  family  the  children  did  not  enjoy  a  legiti- 
mate right  to  the  crown."  When  we  add  the  statement  that 
the  monarch  was  "  supposed  to  be  descended  from  the  gods, 
in  the  male  and  female  line;  "  and  when  we  join  with  this 
the  further  statement  that  therewere  royal  marriages  between 
brother  and  sister;  we  see  that  like  causes  worked  like  effects 
in  Egypt  and  in  Peru.  For  in  Peru  the  Ynca  was  of  sup- 
posed divine  descent;  inherited  his  divinity  on  both  sides; 
and  married  his  sister  to  keep  the  divine  blood  unmixed. 
And  in  Peru,  as  in  Egypt,  there  resulted  royal  succession  in 
the  male  line,  where,  otherwise,  succession  through  females 
prevailed.  Ancient  Ceylon,  where  "  the  form  of  government 
was  at  all  times  an  unmitigated  despotism,"  appears  to  have 
furnished  a  parallel  ease;  for  Sir  J.  E.  Teunant  tells  us  that 
''  the  Singhelese  kings  frequently  married  their  sisters." 

With  this  process  of  transition  from  the  one  law  of  descent 
to  the  other,  implied  by  these  last  facts,  may  be  joined  some 
processes  which  preceding  facts  imply.  In  Xew  Caledonia  a 
"  chief  nominates  his  successor,  if  possible,  in  a  son  or 
brother:  "  the  one  choice  implying  descent  in  the  male  line 
and  the  other  being  consistent  with  descent  in  either  male  or 
female  line.  And  in  ^Madagascar,  where  the  system  of  female 
kinship  prevailed,  "  the  sovereign  nominated  his  successor — 
naturally  choosing  a  son."    Further  it  is  manifest  that  where, 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KIXGS,   ETC.  347 

as  in  these  cases,  when  no  nomination  has  been  made  the 
nobles  choose  among  members  of  the  royal  family,  and  are 
determined  in  their  choice  by  eligibility,  there  may  be,  and 
naturally  is,  a  departure  from  descent  in  the  female  line; 
and  this  system  of  descent  once  broken  through  is  likely  for 
several  reasons  to  be  abolished.  We  are  also  intro- 

duced to  another  transitional  process.  For  some  of  these  cases 
are  among  the  many  in  which  succession  to  rulership  is  fixed 
in  respect  of  the  family,  but  not  fixed  in  respect  of  the 
member  of  the  family — a  stage  implying  a  partial  but  incom- 
plete stability  of  the  political  headship.  Several  instances 
occur  in  Africa.  "  The  crown  of  Abyssinia  is  hereditary  in 
one  family,  but  elective  in  the  person,"  says  Bruce.  "  Among 
the  Timmanees  and  Bulloms,  the  crown  remains  in  the  same 
family,  but  the  chiefs  or  head  men  of  the  country,  upon  whom 
the  election  of  a  king  depends,  are  at  liberty  to  nominate  a 
very  distant  branch  of  that  family."  And  a  Kalfir  "  law 
requires  the  successor  to  the  king  should  be  chosen  from 
amongst  some  of  the  youngest  princes."  In  Java  and  Samoa, 
too,  while  succession  to  rulership  is  limited  to  the  family,  it 
is  but  partially  settled  with  respect  to  the  individual.  And 
the  like  held  in  Spain  (Aragon)  before  the  12th  century; 
where  "  a  small  number  of  powerful  barons  elected  their 
sovereign  on  every  vacancy,  though,  as  usual  in  other  coun- 
tries, out  of  one  family." 

That  stability  of  political  headship  is  secured  by  establish- 
ment of  descent  in  the  male  line,  is,  of  course,  not  alleged. 
The  allegation  simply  is  that  succession  after  this  mode  con- 
duces better  than  any  other  to  its  stability.  Of  probable 
reasons  for  this,  one  is  that  in  the  patriarchal  group,  as 
develo]ied  among  those  pastoral  races  from  which  the  leading- 
civilized  peoples  have  descended,  the  sentiment  of  subordina- 
tion to  the  eldest  male,  fostered  by  circumstances  in  the 
family  and  in  tlie  gens,  becomes  instrumental  to  a  wider  sub- 
ordination in  the  larger  groups  eventually  formed.  Auotlier 
probable  reason  is,  that  with  descent  in  the  male  line  there  is 


348  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

more  frequently  a  union  of  efficiency  with  supremacy.  Tlie 
son  of  a  great  warrior,  or  man  otherwise  ('ai)al)le  as  a  ruler,  is 
more  likely  to  possess  kindred  traits  than  is  the  son  of  his 
sister;  anil  if  so,  it  will  happen  that  in  those  earliest  stages 
when  personal  superiority  is  retpiisite  as  well  as  legitimacy 
of  claim,  succession  in  the  male  line  will  conduce  to  main- 
tenance of  power  by  making  usuipation  more  difficult. 

There  is,  however,  a  more  potent  inlluence  which  aids  in 
giving  permanence  to  political  headship,  and  which  operates 
more  in  conjunction  with  descent  through  males  than  in  con- 
junction with  descent  through  females — an  influence  prob- 
ably of  greater  importance  than  any  other. 

§  477.  When  showing,  in  §  475,  how  respect  for  age  gene- 
rates patriarchal  authority  where  descent  through  males  has 
arisen,!  gave  cases  which  incidentally  showed  a  further  result; 
namely,  that  the  dead  patriarch,  worshipped  by  his  descend- 
ants, becomes  a  family  deity.  In  sundry  chapters  of  Vol.  1. 
wereset  forth  at  length  the  proofs, past  and  present,  furnished 
by  many  places  and  peoples,  of  this  genesis  of  gods  from 
ghosts.  Here  thei-e  remains  to  be  pointed  out  the  strengthen- 
ing of  political  headship  which  inevitably  results. 

Descent  from  a  rulerwho  impressed  men  by  his  superiority, 
and  whose  ghost,  specially  feared,  is  pro])itiated  in  so  unusual 
a  degree  as  to  distinguish  it  from  ancestral  ghosts  at  large, 
exalts  and  supports  the  living  ruler  in  two  ways.  He  is 
assumed  to  inherit  from  his  great  progenitor  more  or  less  of 
the  power,  apt  to  be  thought  supernatural,  which  character- 
ized him ;  and,  making  sacrifices  to  this  great  progenitor,  he  is 
supposed  to  maintain  such  relations  with  him  as  insure  divine 
aid.  Passages  in  Canon  Callaway's  account  of  the  Amazulu, 
show  the  influence  of  this  belief.  It  is  said,  "  the  Itongo 
[ancestral  ghosts]  dwells  with  the  great  man,  and  speaks  with 
him;  "  and  then  it  is  also  said  (referring  to  a  medicine-man), 
"  the  chiefs  of  the  house  of  Fzulu  used  not  to  allow  a  mere 
inferior  to  be  even  said  to  have  j)ower  over  the  heaven;   for 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  349 

it  was  said  that  the  heaven  belonged  only  to  the  chief  of  that 
place."  These  facts  yield  a  definite  interpretation  of  others, 
like  the  following,  which  show  that  the  authority  of  the  ter- 
restrial ruler  is  increased  by  his  alleged  relation  to  the  celes- 
tial ruler;  be  the  celestial  ruler  the  ghost  of  the  remotest 
kno^vn  ancestor  who  founded  the  society,  or  of  a  conquering 
invader,  or  of  a  superior  stranger. 

Of  the  chiefs  among  the  Kukis,  who  are  descendants  of 
Hindoo  adventurers,  we  read: — 

"  All  these  Rajahs  are  supposed  to  have  sprung  from  the  same  stock, 
which  it  is  believed  originally  had  connection  with  the  gods  them- 
selves; their  persons  are  therefore  looked  upon  with  the  greatest 
respect  and  almost  superstitious  veneration,  and  their  commands  are 
in  every  case  law." 
Of  the  Tahitians  Ellis  says: — 

"The  god  and  the  king  were  generally  supposed  to  share  the  authority 
over  the  mass  of  mankind  between  them.  The  latter  sometimes  imper- 
sonated the  former.  .  .  .  The  kings,  in  some  of  the  islands,  were  sup- 
posed to  have  descended  from  the  gods.  Their  persons  were  always 
eacred." 

According  to  Mariner,  "  Toritonga  and  Veachi  (hereditary 
divine  chiefs  in  Tonga,)  are  both  acknowledged  descendants 
of  chief  gods  who  formerly  visited  the  islands  of  Tonga." 
And,  in  ancient  Peru  ''  the  Ynca  gave  them  [his  vassals]  to 
understand  that  all  he  did  with  regard  to  them  was  by  an 
order  and  revelation  of  his  father,  the  Sun." 

This  re-inforcement  of  natural  power  by  supernatural 
])ower,  becomes  extreme  where  the  ruler  is  at  once  a  descend- 
ant of  the  gods  and  himself  a  god:  a  union  which  is  familiar 
among  peoples  who  do  not  distinguish  the  divine  from  the 
human  as  Ave  do.  It  was  thus  in  the  case  just  instanced — 
that  of  the  Peruvians.  It  was  thus  with  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians: the  monarch  "  was  the  representative  of  the  Divinity 
on  earth,  and  of  the  same  substance."  Xot  only  did  he  in 
many  cases  become  a  god  after  death,  but  he  was  worshipped 
as  a  god  during  life;  as  witness  this  prayer  to  Rameses  IT. 
""Wlion  thoy  had  come  before  the  king  .  .  .  they  fell  down  to  the 
ground,  and  with  their  hands  they  prayed  to  the  king.     They  praised 


350  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

this  divine  bebefactor  .  .  .  speaking  thus : — '  We  are  come  before 
thee,  the  lord  of  heaven,  lord  of  tlie  earth,  sun,  life  of  the  whole  world, 
lord  of  time  .  .  .  lord  of  prosperity,  Greater  of  the  harvest,  fashioner 
and  former  of  mortals,  dispenser  of  breath  to  all  men ;  animater  of  the 
whole  company  of  the  gods  .  .  .  thou  former  of  the  great,  creator 
of  the  small  .  .  .  thou  our  lord,  our  sun,  by  whose  words  out  of  his 
mouth  Tum  lives  ,  .  .  grant  us  life  out  of  thy  hands  .  .  .  and 
breath  for  our  nostrils.'  " 

This  prayer  iutrodiiecs  us  to  a  remarkable  parallel,  liameses, 
whose  powers,  demonstrated  by  his  couqiiests,  were  regarded 
as  so  transcendant,  is  here  described  as  ruling  not  only  the 
lower  world  but  also  the  upper  world ;  and  a  like  royal  power 
is  alleged  in  two  existing  societies  where  absolutism  is  simi- 
larly unmitigated — China  and  Japan.  As  shown  when  treat- 
ing uf  Ceremonial  Institutions  (§  347)  both  the  Emperor  of 
China  and  the  Japanese  Mikado,  have  such  supremacy  in 
heaven  that  they  promote  its  inhabitants  from  rank  to  rank 
at  will. 

That  this  strengthening  of  political  headship,  if  not  by 
ascribed  godhood  then  by  ascribed  descent  from  a  god  (either 
the  apotheosized  ancestor  of  the  tribe  or  one  of  the  elder 
deities),  was  exemplified  among  the  early  Greeks,  needs  not 
be  shown.  It  was  exemplified,  too,  among  the  Northern 
Aryans.  "  According  to  the  old  heathen  faith,  the  pedigree 
of  the  Saxon,  Anglian,  Danish,  Xorwcgian,  and  Swedish  kings 
— probably  also  those  of  the  German  and  Scandinavian  kings 
generally — was  traced  to  Odin,  or  to  some  of  his  immediate 
companions  or  heroic  sons." 

It  is  further  to  be  noted  that  a  god-descended  ruler  who  is 
also  chief  priest  of  the  gods  (as  he  habitually  is),  obtains  a 
more  effective  supernatural  aid  than  does  the  ruler  to  whom 
magical  powers  alone  are  ascril)ed.  For  in  the  first  j)lace  the 
invisible  agents  invoked  by  the  magician  are  not  conceived  to 
be  those  of  higliest  rank;  whereas  the  divinely-descended 
ruler  is  supposed  to  get  the  help  of  a  supreme  invisible  agent, 
A  nd  in  the  second  place,  the  one  form  of  influence  over  these 
dreaded  superhuman  l)eings,  tends  much  less  than  the  other 
to  become  a  permanent  attribute  of  the  ruler.  Though  among 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  351 

the  Chibchas,  we  find  a  case  in  which  magical  power  was 
transferred  to  a  successor — though ''  the  cazique  of  Sogamoso 
made  known  that  he  [Bochica]  had  left  him  heir  of  all  his 
sanctity,  and  that  he  had  the  same  power  of  making  rain 
when  he  liked,"  and  giving  health  or  sickness  (an  assertion 
believed  by  the  people);  yet  this  is  an  exceptional  case. 
Speaking  generally,  the  chief  whose  relations  with  the  other 
world  are  those  of  a  sorcerer  does  not  transmit  his  relations; 
and  he  does  not  therefore  establish  a  supernatural  dynasty, 
as  does  the  chief  of  divine  descent. 

§  478.  And  now,  having  considered  the  several  factors 
which  cooperate  to  establish  political  headship,  let  us  con- 
sider the  process  of  cooperation  through  its  ascending  stages. 
The  truth  to  be  noted  is  that  the  successive  phenomena  which 
occur  in  the  simplest  groups,  habitually  recur  in  the  same 
order  in  compound  groups,  and  again  in  doubly-compound 
groups. 

As,  in  the  simple  group,  there  is  at  first  a  state  in  which 
there  is  no  headshij:);  so,  when  simple  gToups  which  have 
acquired  political  heads  possessing  slight  authorities,  are  as- 
sociated, there  is  at  first  no  headship  of  the  cluster.  The 
Chinooks  furnish  an  example.  Describing  them  Lewis  and 
Clarke  say: — "As  these  families  gradually  expand  into 
bands,  or  tribes,  or  nations,  the  paternal  authority  is  repre- 
sented by  the  chief  of  each  association.  This  chieftain,  how- 
ever, is  not  hereditary."  And  then  comes  the  further  fact, 
which  here  specially  concerns  us,  that  "  the  chiefs  of  the 
separate  villages  are  independent  of  each  other :  "  there  is  no 
general  chieftain. 

As  headship  in  a  simple  gTOup,  at  first  temporary,  ceases 
when  the  war  which  initiates  it  ends;  so  in  a  cluster  of  groups 
which  severally  have  recognized  heads,  a  common  headship 
at  first  results  from  a  war,  and  lasts  no  longer  than  the  war. 
Falkner  says — "  In  a  general  war,  when  many  nations  enter 
into  an  alliance  against  a  common  enemy,"  the  Patagonians 


352  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

"  chose  an  Ajx),  or  Coiiimaiulcr-in-cliicf,  from  amoiiii,'  the 
oldest  or  most  cek4)rated  of  the  Caciques."  The  Indians  of 
the  Upper  Orinoco  live  "  in  hordes  of  forty  or  fifty  under  a 
family  government,  and  they  recognize  a  common  chief  only 
in  times  of  war."  So  is  it  in  IJorneo.  "  During  war  the 
chiefs  of  the  Sarebas  Dyaks  give  an  uncertain  allegiance  to  a 
head  chief,  or  commander-in-chief."  It  has  been  the  same 
in  Europe.  Seeley  remarks  that  the  Sabines  "  seem  to  have 
had  a  central  government  only  in  war  time."  Again,  "  Ger- 
many had  anciently  as  many  republics  as  it  had  tribes.  Ex- 
cept in  time  of  war,  there  was  no  chief  common  to  all,  or 
even  to  any  given  confederation." 

This  recalls  the  fact,  indieated  when  treating  of  Political 
Integration,  that  the  cohesion  within  eomjxjund  groups  is  less 
than  that  within  simjde  grou])s,  and  that  the  cohesion  within 
the  doubly  compound  is  less  than  that  within  the  compoumh 
AVhat  was  there  said  of  cohesion  may  here  be  said  of  the  sub- 
ordination conducing  to  it;  for  we  find  that  when,  by  con- 
tinuous war,  a  permanent  headship  of  a  compound  group  has 
been  generated,  it  is  less  stable  than  the  headships  of  the  sim- 
ple groups  are.  Often  it  lasts  only  for  the  life  of  the  man  who 
achieves  it ;  as  among  the  Karens  and  the  ^laganga,  instanced 
in  §  22G,  and  as  among  the  Dyaks,  of  whom  Boyle  says — 

"It  is  an  exceptional  case  if  a  Dyak  chief  is  raised  to  an  acknow- 
ledged supremacy  over  the  other  chiefs.  If  he  is  so  raised  he  can  lay 
no  claim  to  liis  power  exce])t  tliat  of  personal  merit  and  the  consent  of 
his  former  equals;  and  his  death  is  instantly  followed  by  the  disrup- 
tion of  his  dominions." 

Even  wherethere  has  arisen  aheadship  of  the  coniixtuiid  gronj) 
wliich  lasts  beyond  tlie  life  of  its  founder,  it  remains  foralong 
time  not  equal  in  stability  to  the  headships  of  the  component 
groups.  Palhis,  while  describing  th(>  ^longol  and  Kalmuck 
chiefs  as  having  unlimileil  power  over  their  dependants,  says 
that  the  khans  had  in  general  only  an  uncertain  and  weak 
authority  over  the  subordinate  chiefs.  Concerning  the  Arau- 
canians,  Thompson  says  "  the  ulmenes  are  the  lawful  judges 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  353 

of  their  vassals,  and  for  tliis  reason  their  authority  is  less  pre- 
carious than  that  of  the  higher  officers  " — the  central  rulers. 
Of  the  Kaffirs  we  read: — "  They  are  all  vassals  of  the  king, 
chiefs,  as  well  as  those  under  them;  but  the  subjects  are 
generally  so  blindly  attached  to  their  chiefs,  that  they  will 
follow  them  against  the  king."  Europe  has  furnished  kin- 
dred examples.  Of  the  Homeric  Greeks  Mr.  Gladstone 
writes: — "  It  is  probable  that  the  subordination  of  the  sub- 
chief  to  his  local  sovereign  was  a  closer  tie  than  that  of  the 
local  sovereign  to  the  head  of  Greece."  And  during  the  early 
feudal  period  in  the  West,  allegiance  to  the  minor  but  proxi- 
mate ruler  was  stronger  than  that  to  the  major  but  remote  ruler. 
In  the  compound  group,  as  in  the  simple  gi'oup,  the  pro- 
gress towards  stable  headship  is  furthered  by  transition  from 
succession  by  choice  to  succession  by  inheritance.  During 
early  stages  of  the  independent  tribe,  chieftainship  when  not 
acquired  by  individual  superiority  tacitly  yielded  to,  is  ac- 
(piired  by  election.  In  Xorth  America  it  is  so  with  the 
Aleuts,  the  Comanches,  and  many  more;  in  Polynesia  it  is  so 
with  the  Land  Dyaks;  and,  before  the  Mohammedan  con- 
quest, it  was  so  in  Java.  Among  the  hill-peoples  of  India  it 
is  so  with  theXagas  and  others.  In  sundry  regions  the  change 
to  hereditary  succession  is  shown  by  diiferent  tribes  of  the 
same  race.  Of  the  Karens  we  read  that  "  in  many  districts 
the  chieftainship  is  considered  hereditary,  but  in  more  it  is 
elective."  Some  Chinook  villages  have  chiefs  who  inherit 
their  powers,  though  mostly  they  are  chosen.  Similarly, 

the  compound  group  is  at  first  ruled  by  an  elected  head. 
Several  exani]iles  come  to  us  from  Africa.  Bastian  tells  us 
that  "  in  many  pai'ts  of  flieC^ongo  region  the  king  is  chosen  by 
the  petty  jirinces."  The  crown  of  Yariba  is  not  hereditary: 
"  the  chiefs  invariably  electing,  from  the  wisest  and  most 
sagacious  of  tlieir  own  body."  And  the  king  of  Ibu,  says 
Allen,  seems  to  be  '*  elected  by  a  council  of  sixty  elders,  or 
chiefs  of  large  villages."  In  .\sia  it  is  thus  with  the  Knkis. 
"  One,  among  all  tiic  Kajuhs  of  fach  class,  is  chosen  to  be  the  Prudham 


354  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

or  chief  Rajah  of  that  clan.  The  dignity  is  not  hereditary,  as  is  the 
case  with  the  minor  Rujahships,  but  is  enjoyed  by  each  liajah  of  the 
clan  in  rotation." 

So  lias  it  been  in  Europe.  Though  by  the  early  Greeks  here- 
ditary right  was  in  a  considerable  measure  recognized,  yet  the 
case  of  Telemachus  implies  "  that  a  practice,  either  approach- 
ing to  election,  or  in  some  way  involving  a  voluntary  action 
on  the  part  of  the  subjects,  or  of  a  portion  of  them,  had  to  be 
gone  through."  The  like  is  true  of  ancient  Rome.  That  its 
monarchy  was  elective  "  is  proved  by  the  existence  in  later 
times  of  an  office  of  inter  rex,  which  implies  that  the  kingly 
power  (lid  notdevolve  naturally  upon  an  hereditary  successor." 
Later  on  it  was  thus  with  Western  })eopl(>s.  Up  to  the  begin- 
ning of  the  tenth  century  "  the  f(jrniality  of  election  sub- 
sisted ...  in  every  European  kingdom;  and  the  imper- 
fect right  of  birth  required  a  ratification  by  public  assent." 
And  it  Avas  once  thus  with  ourselves.  Among  the  early 
English  the  Bretwaldship,  or  supreme  headshij)  over  the 
minor  kingdoms,  was  at  first  elective;  and  the  form  of  elec- 
tion continued  long 'traceable  in  our  history.  Moreover,  it 
is  observable  that  the  change  to  hereditary  succession  is  by 
assent,  as  in  France.  "  The  first  six  kings  of  this  dynasty 
[the  Capetian]  procured  the  co-optation  of  their  sons,  by 
having  them  crowned  during  their  own  lives.  And  this 
was  not  done  without  the  consent  of  the  chief  vassals." 

The  stability  of  the  compound  headship,  made  greater  by 
efficient  leadershij)  in  war  and  by  establishment  of  hereditary 
succession,  is  further  increased  when  there  cooperates  the 
additional  factor — supposed  suj)crnatural  origin  or  super- 
natural sanction.  Everywhere,  u])  from  a  Xew  Zealand 
king,  who  is  strictly  tapii,  or  sacred,  we  may  trace  this  in- 
fluence; and  occasioiuUIy,  where  divine  descent  or  magical 
powers  are  not  claimed,  there  is  a  claim  to  origin  that  is  ex- 
traordinary. Asia  yields  an  example  in  the  Fodli  dynasty, 
which  reigned  150  years  in  South  Arabia — a  six-fingered 
dynasty,  regarded  with  awe  by  the  people  because  of  its  con- 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  355 

tiniioiisly-inlierited  malformation.  Europe  of  the  Merovin- 
gian period  yields  an  example.  In  pagan  times  the  king's 
race  had  an  alleged  divine  origin;  but  in  Christian  times, 
says  Waitz,  when  they  could  no  longer  mount  back  to  the 
gods,  a  more  than  natural  origin  was  alleged :  "a  sea-monster 
ravished  the  wife  of  Chlogio  as  she  sat  by  the  sea-shore,  and 
from  this  embrace  Merovech  sprang."  Later  days  show 
us  the  gradual  acquisition  of  a  sacred  or  semi-supernatural 
character,  where  it  did  not  originally  exist.  Divine  assent  to 
their  supremacy  was  asserted  by  the  Carolingian  kings. 
During  the  later  feudal  age,  rare  exceptions  apart,  kings 
"  were  not  far  removed  from  believing  themselves  near  rela- 
tives of  the  masters  of  heaven.  Kings  and  gods  were  col- 
leagues." In  the  17th  century  this  belief  was  endorsed  by 
divines.  "  Kings,"  says  Bossuet,  "  are  gods,  and  share  in  a 
manner  the  divine  independence." 

So  that  the  headship  of  a  compound  group,  arising  tempo- 
rarily during  war,  then  becoming,  Avitli  frequent  cooperation 
of  the  groups,  settled  for  life  by  election,  passing  presently 
into  the  hereditary  form,  and  gaining  permanence  as  fast  as 
the  law  of  succession  grows  well-defined  and  undisputed,  ac- 
quires its  gTcatest  stability  only  when  the  king  is  regarded 
as  a  deputy  god,  or  when,  if  he  is  not  supposed  to  inherit  a 
divine  nature,  he  is  su])posed  to  have  a  divine  commission. 

§  479.  Ascribed  divine  nature,  or  divine  descent,  or  divine 
commission,  naturally  gives  to  the  political  head  unlimited 
sway.  In  theory,  and  often  to  a  large  extent  in  practice,  he 
is  owner  of  his  subjects  and  of  the  territory  they  occupy. 

Where  militancy  is  pronounced,  and  the  claims  of  a  con- 
queror unqualified,  it  is  indeed  to  a  considerable  degree  thus 
with  those  uncivilized  ])eoples  who  do  not  ascribe  super- 
natural characters  to  their  rulers.  Among  the  Zulu  Kaffirs 
the  chief  "  exercises  su])reme  power  over  the  lives  of  his 
people;  "  the  Bheel  chiefs  "  have  a  power  over  the  lives  and 
jn-operty  of  their  own  subjects;  "  and  in  Fiji  the  subject  is 


356  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

property.  But  it  is  still  more  thus  where  the  ruler  is  con- 
sidered more  than  human.  Astlej  tells  us  that  in  Loango 
the  king  is  '^  called  samba  and  pongo,  that  is,  god;  "  and, 
according  to  Provart,  the  Loango  people  "  say  their  lives 
and  goods  belong  to  the  king."  In  Wasoro  (East  Africa) 
"  the  king  has  unlimited  power  of  life  and  death  ...  in 
some  tribes  ...  he  is  almost  worshipped."  In  Msambara 
the  people  say  "  we  are  all  slaves  of  the  Zumbe  (king),  who 
is  our  Mulungu  "  [god].  "  By  the  state  law  of  Dahomey, 
as  at  Benin,  all  men  are  slaves  to  the  king,  and  most  women 
are  his  wives;  "  and  in  Dahomey  the  king  is  called  "  the 
spirit."  The  Malagasy  speak  of  their  king  as  "  our  god;  " 
and  he  is  lord  of  the  soil,  owner  of  all  property,  and  master  of 
his  subjects.  Their  time  and  services  are  at  his  connnand. 
In  the  Sandwich  Islands  the  king,  personating  the  god,  utters 
oracular  responses;  and  his  power  ''  extends  over  the  pro- 
perty, liberty,  and  lives  of  his  people."  Various  Asiatic 
rulers,  wdiose  titles  ascribe  to  them  divine  descent  and  nature, 
stand  in  like  relations  to  their  peoples.  In  Siam  "  the  king 
is  master  not  only  of  the  persons  but  really  of  the  property 
of  his  subjects:  he  disposes  of  their  labour  and  directs  their 
movements  at  will."  Of  the  Burmese  we  read — "  their  goods 
likewise,  and  even  their  persons  are  reputed  his  [the  king's] 
property,  and  on  tliis  gronnd  it  is  that  he  selects  for  his  con- 
cubine any  female  that  may  chance  to  please  his  eye."  In 
China  "  there  is  only  one  who  possesses  authority — the  Em- 
])eror.  ...  A  wang,  or  king,  has  no  hereditary  possessions, 
and  lives  upon  the  salary  vouchsafed  by  the  Emperor.  .  .  . 
He  is  the  only  possessor  of  the  landed  property."  And  the 
like  is  alleged  of  the  divinely-descended  Japanese  Mikado: 
"  his  majesty,  although  often  but  a  child  a  few  years  old,  still 
dispensed  ranks  and  dignities,  and  the  ownership  of  the  soil 
always  in  reality  resided  in  him." 

Of  course,  where  the  political  head  has  unlimited  power — 
where,  as  victorious  invader,  his  subjects  lie  at  his  mercy,  or 
where,  as  divinely  descended,  his  will  may  not  be  questioned 


POLITICAL   HEADS— CHIEFS,    KIXGS,    ETC.  357 

without  impietv,  or  where  he  unites  the  characters  of  con- 
queror and  god,  lie  naturally  absorbs  every  kind  of  authority. 
He  is  at  once  military  head,  legislative  head,  judicial  head, 
ecclesiastical  head.  The  fully  developed  king  is  the  supreme 
centre  of  every  social  structure  and  director  of  every  social 
function. 

§  480.  In  a  small  tribe  it  is  practicable  for  the  chief  per- 
sonally to  discharge  all  the  duties  of  his  office.  Besides 
leading  the  other  warriors  in  battle,  he  has  time  to  settle 
disputes,  he  can  sacrifice  to  the  ancestral  ghost,  he  can  keep 
the  village  in  order,  he  can  inflict  punishments,  he  can  regu-. 
late  trading  transactions;  for  those  governed  by  him  are  but 
few,  and  they  live  within  a  narrow  space.  When  he  acquires 
the  headship  of  many  united  tribes,  both  the  increased 
amount  of  business  and  the  wider  area  covered  by  his  sub- 
jects, put  difficulties  in  the  way  of  exclusively  personal  ad- 
ministration. It  becomes  necessary  to  employ  others  for 
the  purposes  of  gaining  information,  conveying  commands, 
seeing  them  executed;  and  in  course  of  time  the  assistants 
thus  employed  groAv  into  established  heads  of  departments 
with  deputed  authorities. 

While  this  development  of  g'overnmental  structures  in- 
creases the  ruler's  power,  by  enabling  him  to  deal  with  more 
numerous  affairs,  it,  in  another  way,  decreases  his  power ;  for 
his  actions  are  more  and  more  modified  by  the  instrumentali- 
ties through  which  they  are  effected.  Those  who  watch  the 
W'orking  of  administrations,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  have 
forced  upon  them  the  truth  that  a  head  regulative  agency  is 
at  once  helped  and  hampered  by  its  subordinate  agencies. 
In  a  philanthropic  association,  a  scientific  society,  or  a  club, 
those  who  govern  find  that  the  organized  officialism  which 
they  have  created,  often  impedes,  and  not  unfrequently  de- 
feats, their  aims.  Still  more  is  it  so  with  the  immensely 
larger  administrations  of  the  State.  Through  deputies  the 
ruler   receives   his   information;    bv   them    his    orders    are 


358  *        POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

executed;  aud  as  fast  as  his  ooniiexion  with  affairs  becomes 
indirect,  his  control  over  affairs  diminishes;  until,  in  extreme 
cases,  he  either  dwindles  into  a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  his 
chief  deputy  or  has  his  place  usurped  by  him. 

Strange  as  it  seems,  the  two  causes  which  conspire  to  give 
permanence  to  political  headship,  also,  at  a  later  stage,  con- 
s])ire  to  reduce  the  political  head  to  an  automaton,  executing 
tlie  wills  of  the  agents  he  has  created.  In  the  first  place, 
■\vlien  hercHlitarv  succession  is  finally  settled  in  some  line  of 
descent  rigorously  prescribed,  the  possession  of  supreme 
power  becomes  independent  of  capacity  for  exercising  it. 
The  heir  to  a  vacant  tlirone  may  be,  and  often  is,  too  young 
for  discharging  its  duties;  or  he  may  be,  and  often  is,  too 
feeble  in  intellect,  too  deficient  in  energy,  or  too  much  occu- 
pied with  the  pleasures  which  his  position  offers  in  unlimited 
amounts.  The  result  is  that  in  the  one  case  the  regent,  and 
in  the  other  the  chief  minister,  becomes  the  actual  ruler.  In 
the  second  place,  that  sacredness  which  supposed  divine  origin 
gives,  makes  him  inaccessible  to  the  ruled.  All  intercourse 
between  him  and  them  nuist  l)e  through  the  agents  he  sur- 
rounds himself  with.  Hence  it  becomes  difficult  or  impos- 
sible for  him  to  learn  more  than  they  choose  him  to  know; 
and  there  follows  inability  to  adapt  his  commands  to  the  re- 
quirements, and  inability  to  discover  wlictlicr  his  coniuiaiuls 
have  been  fulfilled.  His  authority  is  consequently  used  to 
give  effect  to  the  ])urposes  of  his  agents. 

Even  in  so  relatively  simple  a  society  as  that  of  Tonga, 
we  find  an  ('xani))le.  There  is  an  hereditary  sacred  chief  who 
"  was  originally  the  sole  chief,  possessing  temporal  as  well  as 
spiritual  power,  and  regarded  as  of  divine  origin,"  but  who  is 
now  politically  powerless.  Abyssinia  sliows  us  something 
analogous.  Holding  no  direct  comnumication  wath  his  sub- 
jects, and  having  a  sacredness  such  that  even  in  council  he 
sits  unseen,  the  monarch  is  a  mere  dummy.  In  Gondar,  one 
of  the  divisions  of  Abyssinia,  the  king  must  l)elong  to  tlie 
royal  house  of  Solomon,  but  any  one  of  the  turbulent  chiefs 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  359 

who  has  obtained  ascendency  by  force  of  arms,  becomes  a 
Has — a  prime  minister  or  real  monarch ;  though  he  requires 
"  a  titular  emperor  to  perform  the  indispensable  ceremony  of 
nominating  a  Ras,"  since  the  name,  at  least,  of  emperor  "  is 
deemed  essential  to  render  valid  the  title  of  Ras."  The  case 
of  Thibet  may  be  named  as  one  in  which  the  sacredness  of 
the  original  political  head  is  dissociated  from  the  claim  based 
on  hereditary  descent;  for  the  Grand  Llama  considered  as 
"  God  the  Father,"  incarnate  afresh  in  each  new  occupant  of 
the  throne,  is  discovered  among  the  people  at  large  by  certain 
indications  of  his  godhood.  But  with  his  divinity,  involving 
disconnexion  with  temporal  matters,  there  goes  absence  of 
political  power.     A  like  state  of  thiijgs  exists  in  Bhotan. 

"  The  Dhurma  Raja  is  looked  upon  by  the  Bhotanese  in  the  same 
light  as  the  Grand  Lama  of  Thibet  is  viewed  by  his  subjects — namely 
as  a  perpetual  incarnation  of  the  Deity,  or  Bhudda  himself  in  a  corpo- 
real form.  During  the  interval  between  his  death  and  reappearance, 
or,  more  properly  sjieaking,  until  he  has  reached  an  age  sufficiently 
mature  to  ascend  his  spiritual  throne,  the  office  of  Dhurma  Raja  is 
filled  by  proxy  from  amongst  the  priesthood." 
And  then  along  with  this  sacred  ruler  there  co-exists  a  secular 
ruler.  Bhotan  "  has  two  nominal  heads,  known  to  us  and  to 
the  neighbouring  hill-tribes  under  the  Hindoostanee  names 
of  the  Dhurma  and  the  Del)  Rajas.  .  .  .  The  former  is  the 
spiritual  head,  the  latter  the  temporal  one."  Though  in 
this  case  the  temporal  head  has  not  great  influence  (probably 
because  the  priest-regent,  whose  celibacy  prevents  him  from 
founding  a  line,  stands  in  the  way  of  unchecked  assumption 
of  power  by  the  temporal  head),  still  the  existence  of  a  tem- 
l)oral  head  implies  a  partial  lapsing  of  political  functions  out 
of  the  hands  of  the  original  political  head.  But  the  most 
remarkable,  and  at  the  same  time  most  familiar,  example,  is 
that  furnislicd  by  Japan.  Here  the  supplanting  of  inherited 
authority  by  deputed  authniMty  is  excni])litied,  not  in  the 
central  governnunit  alone,  but  in  the  local  government^;. 
"  Next  to  the  prince  and  his  family  came  the  I'aros  or  '  elders.'  Their 
office  became  hereditary,  and,  like  tlie  princes,  they  in  many  instances 


360  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

became  effete.  The  business  of  wliat  we  may  call  the  clan  would  thus 
fall  into  the  hands  of  any  clever  man  or  set  of  men  of  the  lower  ranks, 
who,  joining  ability  to  daring  and  unscrupulousness,  kept  the  princes 
and  the  htrus  out  of  sight,  but  surrounded  with  empty  dignity,  and, 
commanding  the  opinion  of  the  bulk  of  the  sainurai  or  military  class, 
wielded  the  real  power  themselves.  They  took  care,  however,  to  per- 
form every  act  in  the  name  of  the  J'aimants,  their  lords,  and  thus  wo 
hear  of  .  .  .  daimios,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  Emperors,  accomplish- 
ing deeds  ...  of  which  they  were  perhaps  wholly  ignorant." 

This  lapsing  of  political  power  iuto  the  hands  of  ministers 
was,  in  the  case  of  the  central  government,  doubly  illustrated. 
Successors  as  they  were  of  a  god-descended  conqueror  whose 
rule  was  real,  the  Japanese  Emperors  gradually  became  only 
nominal  rulers;  partly  Jjecause  of  the  sacredness  which  sepa- 
rated them  from  the  nation,  and  partly  because  of  the  early 
age  at  which  the  law  of  succession  frequently  entlironcd 
them.  Their  deputies  consequently  gained  predominance. 
The  regency  in  the  ninth  century  "  became  hereditary  in  the 
Fujiwara  [sj)rung  from  the  imperial  house],  and  these  re- 
gents ulTimatoly  became  all-powerful.  They  obtained  the 
privilege  of  opening  all  petitions  addressed  to  the  sovereign, 
and  of  presenting  or  rejecting  them  at  their  jileasure."  And 
then,  in  course  of  time,  this  usurping  agency  had  its  own  au- 
thority usurped  in  like  manner.  Again  succession  by  fixed 
rule  was  rigorously  adhered  to;  and  again  seclusion  entailed 
loss  of  hold  on  affairs.  "■  High  descent  was  the  only  qualilica- 
tioti  for  office,  and  unfitness  for  functions  was  not  regarded  in 
the  choice  of  officials."  Besides  the  ShOgun's  four  confiden- 
tial officers,  "  no  one  else  could  approach  him.  Whatever 
might  be  the  crimes  committed  at  Kama  Koura,  it  was  impos- 
sible through  the  intrigues  of  these  favourites,  to  complain  of 
them  to  the  Seogoun."  The  result  was  that  "  subsequently 
this  family  .  .  .  gave  way  to  military  connnanders,  who," 
however,  often  became  the  instruments  of  other  chiefs. 

Though  less  definitely,  this  process  was  exe1n))lified  during 
early  timesinluirope.  The  Merovingian  kings,  to  whom  there 
clung  a  tradition  of  supernatural  origin,  and  Avhose  order  of 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  361 

succession  was  so  far  settled  that  minors  reigned,  fell  under 
the  control  of  those  who  had  become  chief  ministers.  Long 
before  Childeric,  the  Merovingian  family  had  ceased  to  govern. 
"The  treasures  and  the  power  of  the  kingdom  had  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  prefects  of  tlie  palace,  who  were  called  '  mayors  of  the 
palace,'  and  to  whom  the  supreme  power  really  belonged.  The  prince 
was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  bearing  the  name  of  king,  having 
flowing  locks  and  a  long  beard,  sitting  on  the  chair  of  State,  and 
representing  the  image  of  the  monarch." 

§  481.  From  the  Evolution-standpoint  we  are  thus  enabled 
to  discern  the  relative  beneficence  of  institutions  which,  con- 
sidered absolutely,  are  not  beneficent ;  and  are  taught  to  ap- 
prove as  temporary  that  which,  as  permanent,  we  abhor.  The 
evidence  obliges  us  to  admit  that  subjection  to  despots  has 
been  largely  instrumental  in  advancing  civilization.  Induc- 
tion and  deduction  alike  prove  this. 

If,  on  the  one  hand,  we  group  together  those  wandering- 
headless  hordes  which  are  found  here  and  there  over  the 
Earth,  they  show  us  that,  in  the  absence  of  political  organiza- 
tion, little  progress  has  taken  place;  and  if  we  contemplate 
those  settled  simple  groups  which  have  but  nominal  heads, 
Ave  are  shown  that  though  there  is  some  development  of  the 
industrial  arts  and  some  cooperation,  the  advance  is  but  small. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  glance  at  those  ancient  societies 
in  which  considerable  heights  of  civilization  were  first 
reached,  we  see  them  under  autocratic  rule.  In  America, 
purely  personal  government,  r.estricted  only  by  settled  cus- 
toms, characterized  the  Mexican,  Central  American,  and 
Chibcha  states;  and  in  Peru,  the  absolutism  of  the  divine 
king  was  unqualified.  In  Africa,  ancient  Egypt  exhibited 
very  conspicuously  this  connexion  between  despotic  control 
and  social  evolution.  Throughout  the  distant  past  it  was 
repeatedly  displayed  in  Asia,  from  the  Accadian  civilization 
downwards;  and  the  still  extant  civilizations  of  Siam,  Bur- 
mah,  China,  and  Japan,  re-illustrate  it.  Early  European  so- 
cieties, too,  where  not  characterized  by  centralized  despotism, 


3(J2  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

were  still  characterized  by  diffused  patriarchal  despotism. 
Only  among  modern  peoples,  whose  ancestors  passed  through 
the  discipline  given  under  this  social  form,  and  who  have  in- 
herited its  effects,  is  civilization  being  dissociated  from  sub- 
jection to  individual  will. 

The  necessity  there  has  been  for  absolutism  is  best  seen  on 
observing  that,  during  inter-tribal  and  inter-national  con- 
flicts, those  have  conquered  who,  other  things  equal,  were 
the  more  obedient  to  their  chiefs  and  kings.  And  since  in 
early  stages,  military  subordination  and  social  subordination 
go  together,  it  results  that,  for  a  long  time,  the  conquering 
societies  continued  to  be  the  despotically-governed  societies. 
Such  exceptions  as  histories  appear  to  show  us,  really  prove 
the  rule.  In  the  conflict  between  Persia  and  Greece,  the 
Greeks,  but  for  a  mere  accident,  would  have  been  ruined  by 
that  division  of  councils  which  results  from  absence  of  sub- 
jection to  a  single  head.  And  their  habit  of  appointing  a 
dictator  when  in  great  danger  from  enemies,  implies  that  the 
Romans  had  discovered  that  elhcieucy  in  war  recpiires  undi- 
vided control. 

Thus,  leaving  open  the  question  whether,  in  the  absence  of 
war,  wandering  primitive  groups  could  ever  have  developed 
into  settled  civilized  conmiunities,  we  conclude  that,  under 
such  conditions  as  there  have  been,  those  struggles  for  ex- 
istence among  societies  which  have  gone  on  consolidating 
smaller  into  larger,  until  great  nations  have  been  produced, 
necessitated  tlic  development  <>f  a  social  type  characterised 
by  persoiiid  rule  of  a  stringent  kind. 

§  482.  To  make  clear  the  genesis  of  this  leading  political 
institution,  let  us  set  down  in  brief  the  several  influences 
which  have  conspired  to  effect  it,  and  the  several  stages 
passed  through. 

In  the  rudest  gi-oups,  resistance  to  the  assum])tion  of  su- 
premacy by  any  individnal,  usually  prevents  the  establish- 
ment of  settled  headship;    though  some  influence  is  com- 


POLITICAL  HEADS— CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  363 

monly  accjuired  by  superiority  of  strengtli,  or  courage,  or  sa- 
gacity, or  jjossessions,  or  the  experience  accompanying  age. 

In  such  groups,  and  in  tribes  somewhat  more  advanced, 
two  kinds  of  superiority  conduce  more  than  all  others  to 
predominance — that  of  the  warrior  and  that  of  the  medicine- 
man. Usuajly  separate,  but  sometimes  united  in  the  same 
person,  and  then  greatly  strengthening  him,  both  of  these 
superiorities  tending  to  initiate  political  headship,  continue 
thereafter  to  be  important  factors  in  developing  it. 

At  first,  however,  the  supremacy  acquired  by  great  natural 
power,  or  supposed  supernatural  power,  or  both,  is  transitory 
— ceases  with  the  life  of  one  who  has  acquired  it.  So  long- 
as  the  principle  of  efficiency  alone  operates,  political  headship 
does  not  become  settled.  It  becomes  settled  only  when  there 
cooperates  the  principle  of  inheritance. 

The  custom  of  reckoning  descent  through  females,  which 
characterizes  many  rude  societies  and  survives  in  others  that 
have  made  considerable  advances,  is  less  favourable  to  esta- 
blishment of  permanent  political  headship  than  is  the  custom 
of  reckoning  descent  through  males;  and  in  sundry  semi- 
civilized  societies  distinguished  by  permanent  political  head- 
ships, inheritance  through  males  has  been  established  in  the 
ruling  house  while  inheritance  through  females  survives  in 
the  society  at  large. 

Beyond  the  fact  that  reckoning  descent  through  males  con- 
duces to  a  more  coherent  family,  to  a  greater  culture  of  sub- 
ordination, and  to  a  more  probable  union  of  inherited  position 
with  inherited  capacity,  there  is  the  more  important  fact  that 
it  fosters  ancestor-worship,  and  the  consequent  reinforcing 
of  natural  authority  by  supernatural  authority.  Develop- 
ment of  the  ghost-theory,  leading  as  it  does  to  special  fear  of 
the  ghosts  of  powerful  men,  until,  where  many  tribes  have 
been  welded  together  by  a  conqueror,  his  ghost  acquires  in 
tradition  the  pre-eminence  of  a  god,  produces  two  effects.  In 
the  first  place  his  descendant,  ruling  after  him,  is  supposed 
to  partake  of  his  divine  nature;  and  in  the  second  place,  by 


3Gi  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

propitiatory  sacrifices  to  him,  is  supposed  to  obtain  his  aid. 
Kebellioii  hence  conies  to  be  regarded  as  alike  ^\'icked  and 
hopeless. 

The  processes  by  which  political  headships  are  established 
repeat  themselves  at  successively  higher,  stages.  In  simple 
groups  chieftainship  is  at  first  temporary — ceaises  with  the 
war  which  initiated  it.  When  simple  groups  that  have  ac- 
quired permanent  political  heads,  unite  for  military  purposes, 
the  general  chieftainship  is  originally  but  temporary.  As  in 
simple  groups  chieftainship  is  at  the  outset  habitually  elective, 
and  becomes  hereditary  at  a  later  stage;  so  chieftainship  of 
the  compound  group  is  habitually  elective  at  the  outset,  and 
only  later  passes  into'  the  hereditary.  Similarly  in  some 
cases  where  a  doubly-compound  society  is  formed.  Further, 
this  later-established  power  of  a  suj)renie  ruler,  at  first  given 
by  election  and  presently  gained  by  descent,  is  commonly 
less  than  that  of  the  local  rulers  in  their  own  localities;  and 
when  it  becomes  greater,  it  is  usually,  by  the  help  of  ascribed 
divine  origin  or  ascribed  divine  commission. 

Where,  in  virtue  of  supposed  supernatural  genesis  or  au- 
thority, the  king  has  become  absolute,  and,  owning  both  sub- 
jects and  territory,  exercises  all  powers,  he  is  obliged  by 
the  multiplicity  of  his  affairs  to  depute  his  powers.  There 
follows  a  reactive  restraint  due  to  the  political  machinery  he 
creates;  and  this  machinery  ever  tends  to  become  too  strong 
for  him.  Especially  where  rigorous  adhesion  to  the  rule  of 
inheritance  brings  incapables  to  the  throne,  or  where  ascribed 
divine  nature  causes  inaccessibility  save  through  agents,  or 
where  both  causes  conspire,  power  passes  into  the  hands  of 
deputies.  The  legitimate  ruhr  becomes  an  automaton  and 
his  chief  agent  the  real  ruler;  and  this  agent,  again,  in  swnu; 
cases  passing  through  parallel  stages,  himself  becomes  an 
automaton  and  his  subordinates  the  rulers. 

Lastly,  by  colligation  and  com])arison  of  the  facts,  we  are 
led  to  recognize  the  indirectly-achieved  benefits  which  have 
followed  the  directly-inflicted  evils  of  personal  government. 


POLITICAL   HEADS-CHIEFS,   KINGS,   ETC.  3G5 

Headship  of  the  L-oiKjueriug  chief  has  been  a  uovmal  accom- 
Ijanimeut  of  that  political  integration  without  which  any 
high  degree  of  social  evolution  would  probably  have  been 
impossible.  Only  by  imperative  need  for  combination  in 
war  were  primitive  men  led  into  cooperation.  Only  by  sub- 
jection to  imperative  command  was  such  cooperation  made 
efhcient.  And  only  by  the  cooperation  thus  initiated  were 
made  possible  those  other  forms  of  cooperation  character- 
izinii'  civilized  life. 


CHAPTEP.  YIL 

COMPOUND    rOLlTICAL    HEADS. 

§  483.  In  the  preceding  chapter  we  traced  the  develop- 
ment of  tlie  first  element  in  that  tri-une  political  structure 
which  everywhere  shows  itself  at  the  outset.  We  pass  now 
to  the  development  of  the  second  element — the  group  of 
leading  men  among  whom  the  chief  is,  at  first,  merely  the 
most  conspicuous.  Under  what  conditions  this  so  evolves 
as  to  subordinate  the  other  two,  what  causes  make  it  nar- 
rower, and  what  causes  widen  it  until  it  passes  into  the  tliird, 
we  have  here  to  observe. 

If  the  innate  feelings  and  aptitudes  of  a  race  have  large 
shares  in  determining  the  sizes  and  cohesions  of  the  social 
groups  it  forms,  still  more  must  they  have  large  shares  in  de- 
termining the  relations  which  arise  among  the  members  of 
such  groups.  AVhile  the  mode  of  life  followed  tends  to  gene- 
rate this  or  that  political  structure,  its  effects  are  always  com- 
plicated by  the  effects  of  inherited  character.  AVhether  or 
not  the  primitive  state  in  which  governing  power  is  equally 
distributed  among  all  warriors  or  all  elders,  passes  into  the 
state  in  which  governing  jK)wer  is  mono]iolized  by  one,  de- 
pends in  part  on  the  life  of  the  group  as  predatory  or  peace- 
ful, and  in  part  on  the  natures  of  its  members  as  prompting 
them  to  oppose  dictation  more  or  less  doggedly.  A  few 
facts  will  make  this  clear. 

The  Arafuras  (Papuan  Islanders)  who  "  live  in  peace  aiid 

366 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL  HEADS.  367 

brotherly  love,"  have  no  other  ''.authority  among  them  than 
the  decisions  of  their  elders."  Among  the  harmless  Todas 
''  all  disputes  and  questions  of  right  and  wrong  are  settled 
either  by  arbitration  or  by  a  Punchayet — i.  e.,  a  council  of 
five."  Of  the  Bodo  and  the  Dhimals,  described  as  averse  to 
military  service,  and  "  totally  free  from  arrogance,  revenge, 
cruelty,  and  fierte/''  we  read  that  though  each  of  their  small 
communities  has  a  nominal  head  who  pays  the  tribute  on  its 
behalf,  yet  he  is  without  power,  and  "  disputes  are  settled 
among  themselves  by  juries  of  elders."  In  these 

cases,  besides  absence  of  the  causes  which  bring  about  chiefly 
supremacy,  may  be  noted  the  presence  of  causes  which  di- 
rectly hinder  it.  The  Papuans  generally,  typified  by  the 
Arafuras  above-named,  while  described  by  Modera,  Ross, 
and  Kolff,  as  "  good-natured,"  "  of  a  mild  disposition,"  kind 
and  peaceful  to  strangers,  are  said  by  Earl  to  be  unfit  for 
military  action:  "  their  impatience  of  control  ,  ..  .  utterly 
precludes  that  organization  which  would  enable  "  the  Papu- 
ans '"  to  stand  their  ground  against  encroachments."  The 
Bodo  and  the  Dhimals  while  "'  they  are  void  of  all  violence 
towards  their  own  people  or  towards  their  neighboui*s  "  also 
"  resist  injunctions,  injudiciously  urged,  with  dogged  ob- 
stinacy," And  of  a  kindred  "  very  fascinating  people,"  the 
Lepchas,  amiable,  peaceful,  kind,  as  travellers  unite  in  de- 
scribing them,  and  who  refuse  to  take  service  as  soldiers,  we 
are  told  that  they  will ''  undergo  great  privation  rather  than 
submit  to  oppression  or  injustice." 

Where  the  repugnance  to  control  is  strong,  an  un{?en- 
tralized  political  organization  is  maintained  notwithstanding 
the  warlike  activities  which  t(nid  to  initiate  chieftainship. 
The  Xagas  "  acknowledge  no  king  among  themselves,  and 
deride  the  idea  of  such  a  personage  among  others;  "  their 
'■  vilUigcs  are  contiinially  at  feud;  "  "  eA'ery  man  being  his 
own  master,  his  passions  and  inclinations  are  ruled  by  his 
share  of  brute  force."  And  then  we  further  find  that — 
"Petty  dis])utos  and  disivgrceinonts  about  propi'rty  are  settled  by  a 


3GS  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

council  of  elders,  the  litigants  voluntarily  submitting  to  their  arbitra- 
tion. But  correctly  speaking,  there  is  not  the  shadow  of  a  constituted 
authority  in  the  Naga  community,  and,  wonderful  as  it  may  seem,  this 
want  of  government  does  not  lead  to  any  marked  degree  of  anarchy." 
Similarly  among  the  warlike  tribes  of  North  America. 
Speaking  of  these  people  at  large,  Schoolcraft  says  that  "  they 
all  wish  to  govern,  and  not  to  be  governed.  Every  Indian 
thinks  he  has  a  right  to  do  as  he  pleases,  and  that  no  one  is 
better  than  himself;  and  he  will  light  before  he  will  give  up 
what  he  thinks  right."  Of  the  Comanches,  as  an  example,  he 
remarks  that  "  the  democratic  principle  is  strongly  implanted 
in  them;  "  and  that  for  governmental  pui"].ioses  "  public 
councils  are  held  at  regular  intervals  during  the  year."  Fur- 
ther, we  read  that  in  districts  of  ancient  Central  America 
there  existed  sohiewhat  more  advanced  societies  which, 
though  warlike,  were  impelled  by  a  J^indred  jealousy  to  pro- 
vide against  monoiwly  of  })0wcr.  The  government  was  car- 
ried on  by  an  elective  council  of  old  men  who  a])pointed  a 
war  chief;  and  this  war  chief,  "  if  suspected  of  plotting 
against  the  safety  of  the  commonwealth,  or  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  sui^-eme  power  in  his  own  hands,  was  rigorously 
])ut  to  death  by  the  council." 

Though  the  specialities  of  character  which  thus  lead  cer- 
tain kinds  of  men  in  early  stages  to  originate  coni])onnd  jwliti- 
cal  heads,  and  to  resist,  even  under  stress  of  war,  tlie  rise  of 
single  political  heads,  are  innate,  we  are  not  without  clues  to 
the  circumstances  which  have  made  them  innate;  and  with 
a  view  to  intei'jiretations  presently  to  lie  made,  it  will  be  use- 
ful to  glance  at  these.  The  Comanches  and  kindred  tribes, 
roaming  about  in  small  bands,  active  and  skilful  horsemen, 
have,  throngh  long  past  ])eri(»ds,  been  so  conditioned  as  to 
make  coercion  of  one  nian  by  andtlicr  difhcnlt.  So,  too,  has 
it  been,  though  in  another  way,  with  the  Xagas.  "  They 
inhaljit  a  rough  and  intricate  mountain  range;  "  and  their 
villages  are  perche(l  "  on  the  crest  of  ridges."  Again,  sig- 
nificant evidence  is  furnished  l)v  a  remark  of  Captain  Bur- 
ton to  thf  cfTcct  that  in  Africa,  as  in  Asin.  there  are  tliree 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL   HEADS.  369 

distinct  forms  of  government — military  despotisms,  feudal 
monarchies,  and  rude  republics:  the  rude  republics  being 
those  formed  by  '"  tlie  Bedouin  tribes,  the  hill  people,  and  the 
jungle  races."  Clearly,  the  names  of  these  last  show  that 
they  inhabit  regions  which,  hindering  by  their  physical 
characters  a  centralized  form  of  government,  favou*  a  more 
diffused  form  of  government,  and  the  less  decided  political 
subordination  which  is  its  concomitant. 

These  facts  are  obviously  related  to  certain  others  already 
named.  We  saw  in  §  17,  and  again  in  §  449,  that  it  is  rela- 
tively easy  to  form  a  large  society  if  the  country  is  one  within 
which  all  parts  are  readily  accessible,  while  it  has  barriers 
through  which  exit  is  difhcult;  and  that,  conversely,  forma- 
tion of  a  large  society  is  prevented,  or  greatly  delayed,  ])y 
difliculties  of  communication  within  the  occupied  area,  and 
by  facilities  of  escape  from  it.  Here  we  see,  further,  that 
not  only  is  political  integration  under  its  primary  aspect  of 
increasing  nuiss,  hindered  by  these  last-named  physical  condi- 
tions, but  that  there  is  hindrance  to  the  development  of  a 
more  integrated  form  of  government.  The  circumstances 
which  impede  social  consolidation  also  impede  the  concentra- 
tion of  political  jDower. 

The  truth  here  chiefly  Concerning  us,  however,  is  that  the 
continued  presence  of  the  one  or  the  other  set  of  conditions, 
fosters  a  character  to  which  either  the  centralized  political 
organization  or  the  diffused  political  organization  is  appro- 
])riate.  Existence,  generation  after  generation,  in  a  region 
where  despotic  control  lias  arisen,  produces  an  adapted  type 
of  nature;  partly  by  daily  habit  and  partly  by  survival  of 
those  most  fit  for  living  under  such  control.  Contrariwise, 
in  a  region  favouring  preservation  of  their  independence  by 
small  groups,  there  is  a  strengthening,  through  successive 
ages,  of  sentiments  averse  to  restraint;  since,  not  only  are 
these  sentiments  exercised  in  all  mcmljcrs  of  a  group 
by  resisting  the  efforts  from  time  to  time  made  to  sub- 
ordinate  it,    but,    on    the   average,    those    who   most   j^er- 


370  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tinaeiously  resist  arc  those  who,  remaining  unsubdued,  and 
transmitting  their  mental  traits  to  posterity,  determine  the 
character  of  the  race. 

Having  thus  glanced  at  the  effects  of  the  factors,  external 
and  internal,  as  displayed  in  simple  tribes,  we  shall  under- 
stand how  they  cooperate  when,  by  migration  or  otherwise, 
such  tribes  fall  into  circumstances  favouring  the  growth  of 
large  societies. 

§  484.  The  case  of  an  uncivilized  ]-)eople  of  the  nature  de- 
scribed, who  have  in  recent  times  shown  what  occurs  when 
union  of  small  groups  into  great  ones  is  prompted,  will  best 
initiate  the  interpretation. 

The  Iroquois  nations,  each  made  ni)  of  many  tribes  pre- 
viously hostile,  had  to  defend  themselves  against  pAiropean 
invaders.  Combination  for  this  purpose  among  these  five 
(and  finally  six)  nations,  necessitated  a  recognition  of  equality 
among  them;  since  agreement  to  join  would  not  have  been 
arrived  at  had  it  been  required  that  some  divisions  should  be 
subject  to  others.  The  groups  had  to  cooperate  on  the  under- 
standing that  their  "  rights,  privileges  and  obligations " 
should  be  the  same.  Though  the  numbers  of  permanent  and 
hereditary  sachems  appointed  by*tlie  respective  nations  to 
form  the  Great  Council,  differed,  yet  the  voices  of  the  sev- 
eral nations  were  e<iual.  Omitting  details  of  the  organiza- 
tion, we  have  to  note,  first,  that  for  many  generations,  not- 
withstanding the  wars  which  this  league  carried  on,  its  consti- 
tution remained  stable — no  supreme  individual  arose;  and, 
second,  that  tliis  ecjunlity  among  tlie  powers  of  the  groups  co- 
existed with  ine(|uality  within  each  group:  the  i)eo])hi  liad 
no  share  in  its  government. 

A  clue  is  thus  furnished  to  the  genesis  of  those  compound 
heads  with  which  ancient  history  familiarizes  us.  We  are 
enabled  to  see  how  there  came  to  co-exist  in  the  same  socie- 
ties, some  institutions  of  a  despotic  kind,  witli  otlicr  institu- 
tions of  a  kind  appearing  to  be  based  on  tlie  principle  of 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  371 

equality,  and  often  confounded  with  free  institutions.  Let 
us  recall  the  antecedents  of  those  early  European  peoples 
who  developed  governments  of  this  form. 

During-  the  wandering  pastoral  life,  subordination  to  a 
single  head  was  made  habitual.  A  recalcitrant  member  of 
any  group  luid  either  to  submit  to  the  authority  under  which 
lie  had  grown  up,  or,  rebelling,  had  to  leave  the  group  and 
face  those  risks  which  unprotected  life  in  the  wilderness 
threatened.  The  establishment  of  this  subordination  was 
furthered  by  the  more  frequent  survival  of  groups  in  which 
it  was  greatest;  since,  in  the  conflicts  between  groups,  those 
of  which  the  members  were  insubordinate,  ordinarily  being 
both  smaller  and  less  able  to  cooperate  effectually,  were  the 
more  likely  to  disappear.  But  now  to  the  fact  that  in  such 
families  and  clans,  obedience  to  the  father  and  to  the  patriarch 
was  fostered  by  circumstances,  has  to  be  added  the  fact  above 
emphasized,  that  circumstances  also  fostered  the  sentiment  of 
liberty  in  the  relations  between  clans.  The  exercise  of  power 
by  one  of  them  over  another,  was  made  difficult  by  wide 
scattering  and  by  great  mobility;  and  with  successful  oppo- 
sition to  external  coercion,  or  evasion  of  it,  carried  on  through 
nund)erless  generations,  the  tendency  to  resent  and  resist  all 
strange  authority  was  likely  to  become  strong. 

Whether,  when  groups  thus  disciplined  aggregate,  they 
assume  this  or  that  form  of  political  organization,  depends 
partly,  as  already  implied,  on  the  conditions  into  which  they 
fall.  Even  could  we  omit  those  differences  between  ]\Ion- 
gols,  Semites,  and  Aryans,  established  in  prehistoric  times 
by  causes  unknown  to  us,  or  even  had  complete  likeness  of 
nature  been  produced  among  them  by  long-continued  pastoral 
life;  yet  large  societies  formed  by  combinations  of  their 
small  hordes,  could  be  similar  in  type  only  under  similar 
circumstances.  In  unfavourableness  of  circumstances  is  to 
be  found  the  reason  why  ^fongols  and  Semites,  where  they 
have  settled  and  multiplied,  have  failed  to  maintain  the  au- 
tonomies of  their  hordes  after  combination  of  them,  and  to. 


372  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

evolve  the  resultinc;  institutions.  Even  tlio  Arvans,  amone; 
whom  chiefly  the  less  concentrated  forms  oi  political  rule 
have  arisen,  show  us  that  almost  everything  depends  on  fa- 
vourable or  unfavourable  conditions  fallen  into.  Originally 
inheriting  in  common  the  mental  traits  generated  during 
their  life  in  the  Hindu  Koosh  and  its  neighbourhood,  the 
different  divisions  of  the  race  have  developed  different  insti- 
tutions and  accompanying  characters.  Those  of  them  who 
spread  into  the  plains  of  India,  where  great  fertility  made 
possible  a  large  population,  to  the  control  of  which  there 
were  small  physical  impediments,  lost  their  indei)endence  of 
nature,  and  did  not  evolve  political  systems  like  those  which 
grew  up  among  their  Western  kindred,  under  circumstances 
furthering  maintenance  of  the  original  character. 

The  implication  is,  then,  that  where  groups  of  the  patri- 
archal type  fall  into  regions  permitting  considerable  growth 
of  population,  but  having  physical  structures  which  impede 
the  centralization  of  power,  compound  political  heads  will 
arise,  and  for  a  time  sustain  themselves,  through  cooperation 
of  the  two  factors — independence  of  local  groups  and  need 
for  union  in  war.      Let  us  consider  sonic  exam})les. 

§  485.  The  ishuid  of  ( 'retc  has  uuukm'ous  higli  mountain 
valleys  containing  good  pasturage,  and  provides  many  seats 
for  strongholds — seats  which  ruins  prove  that  the  ancient 
inhabitants  utilized.  Similarly  with  the  mainland  of  Greece. 
A  complicated  mountain  system  cuts  off  its  parts  from  one 
another  and  renders  each  difficult  of  access.  Especially  is 
this  so  in  the  Peloponnesus;  and,  above  all,  in  the  part  occu- 
pied l)v  the  Spartans.  It  has  been  remarked  that  the  State 
which  possesses  both  sides  of  Taygetus,  has  it  in  its  power  to 
be  master  of  the  peninsuhi:  '^  it  is  the  Acropolis  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnese,  as  that  country  is  of  the  rest  of  Greece." 

When,  over  the  earlier  inhabitants,  there  came  successive 
waves  of  Hellenic  conr]uerors,  those  brought  with  them  the 
type  of  nature  and  organization  coimiion  to  the  Aryans,  dis- 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL  HEADS.  373 

playing  tlie  united  traits  above  described.  Such  a  people 
taking"  possession  of  such  a  land,  inevitably  fell  in  course  of 
time  "  into  as  many  independent  clans  as  the  country  itself 
was  divided  by  its  mountain  chains  into  valleys  and  dis- 
tricts." From  separation  resulted  alienation;  so  that  those 
remote  from  one  another,  becoming  strangers,  became  ene- 
mies. In  early  Greek  times  the  clans,  occupying  mountain 
villages,  were  so  liable  to  incursions  from  one  another  that 
the  planting  of  fruit  trees  was  a  w-aste  of  labour.  There 
existed  a  state  like  that  seen  at  present  among  such  Indian- 
hill  tribes  as  the  Xagas. 

Though  preserving  the  tradition  of  a  common  descent,  and 
owning  allegiance  to  the  oldest  male  representative  of  the 
patriarch,  a  people  spreading  over  a  region  which  thus  cut  off 
from  one  another  even  adjacent  small  groups,  and  still  more 
those  remoter  cluster  of  groups  arising  in  course  of  genera- 
tions, would  inevitably  become  disunited  in  government: 
subjection  to  a  general  head  w^ould  be  more  and  more  difficult 
to  maintain,  and  subjection  to  local  heads  would  alone  con- 
tinue practicable.  At  the  same  time  there  would  arise,  under 
such  conditions,  increasing  causes  of  insubordination.  When 
the  various  branches  of  a  common  family  are  so  separated  as 
to  j)re\'ent  intercourse,  their  respective  histories,  and  the  lines 
of  descent  of  their  respective  heads,  must  become  unknown, 
or  but  partially  known,  to  one  another;  and  claims  to  supre- 
macy made  now  by  this  local  head  and  now  by  that,  are  cer- 
tain to  be  disputed.  If  we  remember  how,  even  in  settled 
societies  having  records,  there  have  been  perpetual  conflicts 
about  rights  of  succession,  and  how,  down  to  our  own  day, 
there  are  frequent  law-suits  to  decide  on  heirships  to  titles 
and  properties,  we  cannot  but  infer  that  in  a  state  like  that 
of  the  early  Greeks,  the  difficulty  of  establishing  the  legiti- 
macy of  general  headships,  conspiring  with  the  desire  to  as- 
sert independence  and  the  ability  to  maintain  it,  inevitably 
entailed  lapse  into  numerous  local  headships.  Of  course, 
under  conditions  varying  in  each  locality,  splittings-up  of 


874:  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

Avider  governments  into  narrower  went  to  ditferent  extents; 
and  naturally,  too,  re-estajjlisliments  of  wider  governments  or 
extensions  of  narrower  ones  in  some  cases  took  place.  But, 
generally,  the  tendency  under  such  conditions  was  to  fomi 
small  independent  groups,  severally  having  the  patriarchal 
type  of  organization.  Hence,  then,  the  decay  of  such  king- 
ships as  are  implied  in  the  Iliad.  As  Grote  writes — "  When 
"\ve  approach  historical  Greece,  we  tind  that  (with  the  excep- 
tion of  Sparta)  the  primitive,  hereditary,  unresponsible  mon- 
arch, uniting  in  himself  all  the  functions  of  government,  has 
ceased  to  reign.""-' 

Let  us  now  ask  what  will  happen  when  a  cluster  of  clans 
of  common  descent,  which  have  become  independent  and 
hostile,  are  simultaneously  endangered  by  enemies  to  whom 
they  are  not  at  all  akin,  or  but  remotely  akin?  Habitually 
they  will  sink  their  differences  and  cooperate  for  defence. 
But  on  what  terms  will  they  cooperate?  Even  among  friendly 
groups,  joint  action  would  be  hindered  if  some  claimed  supre- 
macy; and  among  groups  having  out-standing  feuds  there 
could  be  no  joint  action  save  on  a  footing  of  equality.  The 
common  defence  would,  therefore,  be  directed  by  a  body 
*  While  I  am  writing,  the  just-issued  third  volume  of  Mr.  Skene's  Celtic 
Scotland,  supplies  me  with  an  illustration  of  the  process  above  indicated. 
It  appears  that  the  original  Celtic  tribes  which  formed  the  earldoms  of 
Moray,  Buchan,  Athol,  Angus,  Menteith,  became  broken  up  into  clans ;  and 
how  influential  was  the  physical  character  of  the  country  in  producing  this 
result,  we  are  shown  by  the  fact  that  this  change  took  place  in  the  ptirts 
of  thorn  which  fell  within  the  highland  country.  Describing  the  smaller 
groups  which  resulted.  Mr.  Skene  says: — "While  the  clan,  viewed  as  a 
single  community,  thus  consisted  of  the  chief,  with  his  kinsmen  to  a  cer- 
tain limited  degree  of  relationship;  the  con^monality  who  were  of  the 
same  blood,  who  all  bore  the  same  name,  and  his  dependents,  consisting  of 
subordinate  septs  of  native  men,  who  did  not  claim  to  be  of  the  blood  of 
the  chief,  but  were  either  probably  descended  from  the  more  ancient  oc- 
cupiers of  the  soil,  or  were  broken  men  from  other  clans,  who  had  taken 
protection  with  him.  .  .  .  Those  kinsmen  of  the  chief  who  acquired  the 
property  of  their  land  founded  families.  .  ,  .  The  most  influential  of  these 
was  that  of  the  oldest  cadet  in  the  family  which  had  been  longest  sepa- 
rated from  the  main  .stem,  and  usually  j)resented  the  appearance  of  a  rival 
house  little  less  powerful  than  that  of  the  chief." 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL  HEADS.  375 

foiTued  of  the  lieads  of  the  cooperating  small  societies;  and 
if  the  cooperation  for  defence  was  prolonged,  or  became 
changed  into  cooperatign  for  oHence,  this  temporary  control- 
ling body  would  naturally  grow  into  a  permanent  one,  hold- 
ing the  small  societies  together.  The  special  characters 
of  this  compound  head  would,  of  course,  vary  with  the  cir- 
cumstances. Where  the  traditions  of  the  united  clans  agreed 
in  identifying  some  one  chief  as  the  lineal  representative  of 
the  original  patriarch  or  hero,  from  whom  all  descended,  pre- 
cedence and  some  extra  authority  would  be  permitted  to  him. 
Where  claims  derived  from  descent  were  disputed,  personal 
suj)eriority  or  election  would  determine  which  member  of 
the  compound  head  should  take  the  lead.  If  within  each  of 
the  component  groups  chiefly  power  was  unqualified,  there 
would  result  from  union  of  chiefs  a  close  oligarchy;  while 
the  closeness  of  the  oligarchy  would  become  less  in  proportion 
as  recognition  of  the  authority  of  each  chief  diminished. 
And  in  cases  where  there  came  to  be  incorporated  numerous 
aliens,  owing  allegiance  to  the  heads  of  none  of  the  compo- 
nent groups,  there  would  arise  influences  tending  still  more 
to  widen  the  oligarch}^ 

Such,  we  may  conclude,  were  the  origins  of  those  com- 
pound headships  of  the  Greek  states  which  existed  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  historic  period.  In  Crete,  where  there  sur- 
vived the  tradition  of  primitive  kingship,  but  where  disjier- 
sion  and  subdivision  of  clans  had  brought  about  a  condition 
in  which  "  different  towns  carried  on  open  feuds,"  there  were 
"  patrician  houses,  deriving  their  right  from  the  early  ages  of 
royal  government,"  who  continued  "  to  retain  possession  of 
the  administratiou."  In  Corinth  the  line  of  Hcrakleid  kings 
"  subsides  gradually,  through  a  series  of  emiDty  names,  into 
the  oligarchy  denominated  Bacchiadse.  .  .  .  The  persons  so 
named  were  all  accounted  descendants  of  Ilerakles,  and 
formed  the  governing  caste  in  the  city."  So  was  it  with 
Megara.  According  to  tradition,  this  arose  by  combination  of 
several  villaii'cs  inhabited  bv  kiiubvMl  tribes,  wliit-h,  oriiiinallv 


376  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

in  antagonism  with  Corinth,  had,  probably  in  the  course  of 
tliis  antagonism,  become  consolidated  into  an  independent 
state.  At  the  opening  of  the  liistoric  period  the  like  had  hap- 
pened in  Sikyon  and  other  places.  Sparta,  too,  "'  always 
maintained,  down  to  the  times  of  the  despot  Xabis,  its  primi- 
tive aspect  of  a  group  of  adjacent  hill-villages  rather  than  a 
regular  city."  Though  in  Sparta  kingship  had  survivcMl  un- 
der an  anomalous  form,  yet  the  joint  representatives  of  the 
primitive  king,  still  reverenced  because  the  tradition  of  their 
divine  descent  was  preserved,  had  bt'come  little  more  than 
members  of  the  governing  oligarchy,  retaining  certain  pre- 
rogatives. And  though  it  is  true  that  in  its  earliest  histori- 
cally-known stage,  the  Spartan  oligarchy  did  not  present  the 
form  which  would  spontaneously  arise  from  the  union  of 
chiefs  of  clans  for  cooperation  in  war — though  it  had  become 
elective  within  a  limited  class  of  persons;  yet  the  fact^that 
an  age  of  not  less  than  sixty  was  a  qualification,  harmonizes 
with  the  belief  that  it  at  first  consisted  of  the  heads  of  the  re- 
spective groups,  who  were  always  the  eldest  sons  of  the  eldest; 
and  that  these  groups  with  their  heads,  described  as  haA'iug 
been  in  prC-Lvkurgean  times,  "  the  most  lawless  of  all  the 
Greeks,"  beeame  united  by  that  continuous  militant  life 
which  distinguished  them.* 

*  Asbcaringonliistorical  intorprctatioiisat  Iar<;^o.  and  ospopially  on  inter- 
pretations to  be  made  in  this  work,  let  me  point  out  furtlier  reasons  than 
those  given  by  Grotc  and  others  for  rejecting  the  tradition  that  the  Spartan 
constitution  was  the  work  of  Lykurgus.  The  universal  tendency  to  ascribe 
an  effect  to  the  most  conspicuous  proximatecause,  is  especially  strong  where 
the  effect  is  one  of  which  the  causation  is  involved.  Our  own  time  has  fur- 
nished an  illustration  in  the  ascription  of  Corn-law  Repeal  to  Sir  Robert 
Peel,  and  after  him  to  Messrs.  Cobden  and  Bright :  leaving  Colonel  Thomp- 
son un-named.  In  the  next  generation  the  man  who  for  a  time  carried  on 
the  fight  single-handed,  and  forged  sundrv  of  the  weapons  used  by  the  vic- 
tors, will  be  unheard  of  in  connexion  with  it.  It  is  not  enough,  however,  to 
suspect  that  Lykurgus  was  simply  the  finisher  of  other  men's  work.  We 
may  reasonably  suspect  that  the  work  was  that  of  no  man.  but  simply  that 
of  the  needs  and  the  conditions.  This  may  he  seen  in  the  institiition  of  the 
]iublic  mess.  If  we  ask  what  will  happen  with  a  small  people  who,  for  gene- 
rations spreading  as  conquerors,  have  a  contempt  for  all  industry,  and  who, 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL  HEADS.  377 

The  Romans  exemplify  the  rise  of  a  compound  headship 
under  conditions  which,  though  partially  different  from  those 
the  Greeks  were  subject  to,  were  allied  fundamentally.  In 
its  earliest-known  state,  Latium  was  occupied  by  village- 
communities,  which  were  united  into  cantons;  while  these 
cantons  formed  a  league  headed  by  Alba — a  canton  regarded 
as  the  oldest  and  most  eminent.  This  combination  was  -for 
joint  defence;  as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  each  group  of 
clan-villages  composing  a  canton,  had  an  elevated  stronghold 
in  common,  and  also  by  the  fact  that  the  league  of  cantons 
had  for  its  centre  and  place  of  refuge.  Alba,  the  most  strongly 
placed  as  well  as  the  oldest.  The  component  cantons  of  the 
league  were  so  far  independent  that  there  were  wars  between 
them;  hence  we  may  infer  that  when  they  cooperated  for 
joint  defence  it  was  on  substantially  equal  terms.  Thus 
before  Rome  existed,  the  people  who  formed  it  had  been 
habituated  to  a  kind  of  life  such  that,  with  great  subordina- 
tion in  each  family  and  clan,  and  partial  subordination  within 
each  canton  (which  was  governed  by  a  prince,  council  of 
elders,  and  assembly  of  warriors),  there  went  a  union  of  heads 
of  cantons,  who  were  in  no  degree  subordinate  ono'to  another. 
AATien  the  inhabitants  of  three  of  these  cantons,  the  Ramnians, 
Titles,  and  Luceres, began  to  occupy  the  tract  on  which  Rome 
stands,  they  brought  with  tlicm  their  political  organization, 
when  not  at  war,  puss  their  time  in  exercises  fittingthem  for  war,  it  becomes 
manifest  that  at  first  the  daily  assembling  to  carry  on  these  exercises  will  en- 
tail the  daily  bringing  of  provisions  by  each.  As  happens  in  those  pic-nics 
in  which  all  who  join  contribute  to  the  common  repast,  a  certain  obliga- 
tion respecting  qnantities  and  qualities  will  naturally  arise — an  obligation 
which,  repeated  daily,  will  pass  from  custom  into  law :  ending  in  a  specifica- 
tion of  the  kinds  and  amounts  of  food.  Further,  it  is  to  he  expected  that  as 
the  law  thus  arises  in  an  age  when  food  is  coarse  and  unvaried,  the  simplicity 
of  the  diet,  originally  unavoidable,  will  eventually  be  considered  asintended 
— as  an  ascetic  regimen  deliberately  devised.  [When  writing  this  I  was  not 
aware  that,  as  pointed  out  by  Prof.  Paley  in  F'rasers  Magmiiip.  for  Febru- 
ary, l.SSl,  among  the  Greeks  of  later  times,  it  was  common  to  have  dinners 
to  which  each  guest  brought  his  share  of  provisions,  and  that  those  who 
contributed  little  and  consumed  much  were  objects  of  satire.  This  fac^ 
increases  the  probability  that  the  Spartan  mess  originated  as  suggested.] 


378  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Tlio*  oldest  Roman  patricians  bore  the  names  of  rural  clans 
belonging  to  these  cantons.  Whether,  when  seating  them- 
selves ou  the  Palatine  hills  and  on  the  Quirinal,  they  pre- 
served their  cantonal  divisions,  is  not  clear ;  though  it  seems 
probable  a  priori.  But,  however  this  may  be,  there  is  proof 
that  they  fortihed  themselves  against  one  another,  as  well  as 
against  outer  enemies.  The  ''  mount-men  "  of  the  Palatine 
and  the  "  hill-men  "  of  the  Quirinal  were  habitually  at  feud; 
and  even  among  the  minor  divisions  of  those  who  occupied 
the  Palatine,  there  were  dissensions.  As  Mommsen  says, 
primitive  Rome  was  "  rather  an  aggregate  of  urban  settle- 
ments than  a  single  city."  And  that  the  clans  who  formed 
these  settlements  brought  with  them  their  enmities,  is  to  be 
inferred  from  the  fact  that  not  only  did  they  fortify  the  hills 
on  which  they  fixed  themselves,  but  even  "  the  houses  of  the 
old  and  powerful  families  were  constructed  somewhat  after 
the  manner  of  fortresses." 

So  that  again,  in  the  case  of  Rome,  we  see  a  cluster  of 
small  independent  communities,  allied  in  blood  but  partially 
antagonistic,  which  had  to  cooperate  against  enemies  on  such 
terms  as  all  would  agi'ce  to.  In  early  Greece  the  means  of 
defence  were,  as  Grotc  remarks,  greater  than  the  means  of 
attack;  and  it  was  the  same  in  early  Rome.  Hence,  while 
coercive  rule  within  the  family  and  the  group  of  related 
families  was  easy,  there  was  dithculty  in  extending  coercion 
over  many  such  groups:  fortified  as  they  were  against  one 
another..  Moreover,  the  stringency  of  government  within 
each  of  the  communities  constituting  the  primitive  city,  was 
diminished  by  facility  of  escape  from  one  and  admission  into 
another.  As  we  have  seen  among  simple  tribes,  desertions 
take  place  when  the  rule  is  harsh ;  and  we  may  infer  that,  in 
primitive  Rome  there  was  a  check  on  exercise  of  force  by  the 
more  powerful  families  in  each  settlement  over  the  less 
powerful,  caused  by  the  fear  thatmigration  might  weaken  the 
settlement  and  strengthen  an  adjacent  one.  Thus  the  cir- 
cumstances were  such  that  when,  for  defence  of  the  city,  co- 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  379 

operation  became  needful,  the  heads  of  the  clans  included  in 
its  several  divisions  came  to  have  substantially  equal  powers. 
The  original  senate  was  the  collective  body  of  clan-elders; 
and  "  this  assembly  of  elders  was  the  ultimate  holder  of  the 
ruling  power:  "    it  was  ''  an  assembly  of  kings."  xVt 

the  same  time,  the  heads  of  families  in  each  clan,  forming 
the  body  of  burgesses,  stood,  for  like  reasons,  on  equal 
footing:.  Primarilv  for  command  in  war,  there  was  an  elected 
head,  who  was  also  chief  magistrate.  Though  not  having  the 
authority  given  by  alleged  divine  descent,  he  had  the  autho- 
rity given  by  supposed  divine  approval ;  and,  himself  bearing 
the  insignia  of  a  god,  he  retained  till  death  the  absoluteness  • 
appropriate  to  one.  But  besides  the  fact  that  the  choice, 
originally  made  by  the  senate,  had  to  be  again  practically 
made  by  it  in  case  of  sudden  vacancy ;  and  besides  the  fact 
that  each  king,  nominated  by  his  predecessor,  had  to  be  ap- 
proved by  the  assembled  burgesses;  there  is  the  fact  that  the 
king's  power  was  executive  only.  The  assembly  of  burgesses 
"  was  in  law  superior  to,  rather  than  co-ordinate  with,  the 
king."  Further,  in  the  last  resort  was  exercised  the  supreme 
power  of  the  senate;  which  was  the  guardian  of  the  law 
and  could  veto  the  joint  decision  of  king  and  burgesses.  Thus 
the  constitution  was  in  essence  an  oligarchy  of  heads  of  clans, 
included  in  an  oHgarchy  of  heads  of  houses — a  compound 
oligarchy  which  became  unqualified  when  kingship  was  sup- 
pressed. And  here  should  be  emphasized  the  truth, 
sufficiently  obvious  and  yet  continually  ignored,  that  the 
Iloman  Kepublic  which  remained  when  the  regal  power 
ended,  differed  uttiM'ly  in  nature  from  those  popular  govern- 
ments with  which  it  has  been  commonly  classed.  The  heads  of 
clans,  of  whom  the  narrower  governing  body  was  formed,  as 
well  as  the  heads  of  families  who  formed  the  wider  governing 
body,  were,  indeed,  jealous  of  one  another's  powers;  and  in 
so  far  simulated  the  citizens  of  a  free  state  who  individually 
maintain  their  equal  rights.  But  these  heads  severally 
exercised  unlimited  jiowers  over  the  members  of  their  house- 


380  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

holds  aud  over  their  clusters  of  dependents.  A  community 
of  which  the  component  groups  severally  retained  their  in- 
ternal autonomies,  with  the  result  that  the  rule  within  each 
remained  absolute,  was  nothing  but  an  aggregate  of  small 
despotisms.  Institutions  under  which  the  head  of  each 
group,  besides  owning  slaves,  had  such  supremacy  that  his 
wife* and  t'liihh'cn.  iiichiding  even  married  sons,  had  no  more 
legal  rights  than  cattle,  and  were  at  his  mercy  in  life  and 
limb,  or  could  be  sold  into  slavery,  can  be  called  free  institu- 
tions only  by  those  who  confound  similarity  of  extci'ual 
outline  with  similarity  of  internal  structure.* 

§  48 G.  The  formation  of  compound  political  heads  in  later 
times,  repeats  this  j)rocess  in  essentials  if  not  in  details.  In 
one  way  or  other,  the  result  arises  when  a  common  need  for 
defence  compels  cooperation,  while  there  exists  no  means 
of  securing  cooperation  save  voluntary  agreement. 

Beginning  with  the  example  of  Venice,  we  notice  first  that 
the  region  occupied  by  the  ancient  Veneti,  included  the  exten- 
sive marshy  tract  formed  of  the  deposits  brought  down  by 
several  rivers  to  the  Adriatic — a  tract  which,  in  Strabo's  day, 
was  "  intersected  in  every  quarter  by  rivers,  streams,  and 
morasses;  "  so  that  "  Aquileia  and  Ravenna  were  then  cities 
in  the  marshes."  Having  for  tlieir  stronghold  this  region  full 
of  spots  accessible  only  to  inhabitants  who  knew  the  intri- 
cate ways,  to  them,  the  Veneti  maintained  their  independence, 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  Romans  to  subdue  them,  until  the 
time  of  Caesar.  In  later  days,  kindred  results  were 

more  markedly  displayed  in  that  part  of  this  region  specially 
characterized  by  inaccessibility.  From  early  ages  the  islets, 
or  rather  mud-banks,  on  which  Venice  stands,  were  inhabited 

*  I  shouUl  have  thought  it  noedlpss  to  insist  on  so  obvious  a  tnith  had  it 
not  beon  that  even  still  tlioro  continues  this  identification  of  thinp^s  so  ut- 
terly different.  Within  these  few  years  has  been  published  a  mapazine- 
article  by  a  distinp:ulshed  historian,  describing  the  corruptions  of  the 
Roman  Republic  durinp  its  latter  days,  with  the  appended  moral  that 
such  were,  and  are,  likely  to  be  the  results  of  democratic  government  I 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL  HEADS.  381 

by  a  maritime  peojjle.  Each  islet,  secure  in  the  midst  of  its 
tortuous  lagunes,  had  a  popular  government  of  annually- 
elected  tribunes.  And  these  original  governments,  existing 
at  the  time  when  there  came  several  thousands  of  fugitives, 
driven  from  the  mainland  by  the  invading  Iluns,  survived 
under  the  form  of  a  rude  confederation.  As  we  have 
seen  happens  generally,  the  union  into  which  these  !nde- 
jjcndent  little  connnunities  were  forced  for  purposes  of  de-' 
fence,  was  disturbed  by  feuds;  and  it  was  only  under  the 
stress  of  opposition  to  aggressing  Lombards  on  the  one  side 
and  Sclavonic  pirates  on  the  other,  that  a  general  assembly  of 
nobles,  clergy,  and  citizens,  appointed  a  duke  or  doge  to  direct 
the  combined  forces  and  to  restrain  internal  factions:  being 
superior  to  the  tribunes  of  the  united  islets  and  subject  only 
to  this  body  which  appointed  him.  What  changes 

subsequently  took  place — how,  beyond  the  restraints  imposed 
by  the  general  assembly,  the  doge  was  presently  put  under 
the  check  of  two  elected  councillors,  and  on  important  occa- 
sion's had  to  summon  the  principal  citizens — how  there  came 
afterwards  a  representative  council,  which  underwent  from 
time  to  time  modifications — does  not  now  concern  us.  Here 
we  have  simply  to  note  that,  as  in  preceding  cases,  the  com- 
I)onent  groups  being  favourably  circumstanced  for  severally 
maintaining  their  independence  of  one  another,  the  impera- 
tive need  forunion  against  enemies  initiated  a  rude  compound 
headshi]),  which,  notwithstanding  the  centralizing. effects  of 
war,  long  maintained  itself  in  one  or  other  form. 

On  finding  allied  results  among  men  of  a  difFereiit  race  but 
occupying  a  similar  regiouj  doubts  respecting  the  process  of 
causation  must  be  dissipated.  Over  the  area,  half  land,  half 
water,  formed  of  the  sediment  brought  down  by  the  Rhine 
and  adjacent  rivers,  there  early  existed  scattered  families. 
Living  on  isolated  sand-hills,  or  in  huts  raided  on  piles,  they 
were  so  secure  amid  their  creeks  and  mud-banks  and  marehes, 
that  they  remained  niisnlxhied  by  the  Romans.  Subsisting 
at  first  bv  fishinc',  Avitli  here  and  there  such  small  auTiculturc 


3S2  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

as  was  possible,  and  eventually  becoming  maritime  and  com- 
mercial, these  people,  in  course  of  time,  rendered  their  land 
more  habitable  bv  damming  out  the  sea;  and  they  long  en- 
joyed a  partial  if  not  complete  independence.  In  the  third 
century,  "  the  low  countries  contained  the  only  free  people  of 
the  German  race."  Especially  the  Frisians,  more  remote 
than  the  rest  from  invaders,  "  associated  themselves  with  the 
tribes  settled  on  the  limits  of  the  German  Ocean,  and  formed 
with  them  a  connexion  celebrated  under  the  title  of  the 
'  Saxon  League.'  "  Though  at  a  later  time,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  low  countries  fell  under  Frankish  invaders;  yet  the  na- 
ture of  their  habitat  continued  to  give  them  such  advantages 
in  resisting  foreign  control,  that  they  organized  themselves 
after  their  own  fashion  notwithstanding  interdicts.  "  From 
the  time  of  Charlemagne,  the  people  of  the  ancient  Menapia, 
now  become  a  prosperous  commonwealth,  formed  political 
associations  to  raise  a  barrier  against  the  despotic  violence  of 
the  Franks."  Meanwhile  the  Frisians,  who,  after  centuries 
of  resistance  to  the  Franks,  were  obliged  to  yield  and  render 
small  tributary  services,  retained  their  internal  autonomy. 
They  formed  "  a  confederation  of  rude  but  self-governed 
maritime  provinces:  "  each  of  these  seven  provinces  being 
divided  into  districts  severally  governed  by  elective  heads 
with  their  councils,  and  the  whole  being  under  a  general 
elective  head  and  a  general  council. 

Of  illustrations  which  modern  times  have  furnished,  must 
be  named  those  wliich  again  show  us  the  eifects  of  a  moun- 
tainous region.  The  most  notable  is,  of  course,  that  of 
Switzerland.  Surrounded  by  forests,  "  among  marshes,  and 
rocks,  and  glaciers,  tribes  of  scattered  she]>lierds  had,  from  tlie 
early  times  of  the  Roman  conquest,  found  a  land  of  refuge 
from  the  successive  invaders  of  the  rest  of  Helvetia."  In  the 
labyrinths  of  the  Alps,  accessible  to  those  only  who  knew  the 
ways  to  them,  their  cattle  fed  unseen ;  and  against  straggling 
bands  of  marauders  who  might  discover  their  retreats,  they 
had   c;reat  facilities  for  defence.      These  districts — which 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  383 

eventually  became  the  cautoiis  of  Scliweitz,  Uri,  and  Unter- 
walden,  origiually  having  but  one  centre  of  meeting,  but 
eventually,  as  population  increased,  getting  three,  and  form- 
ing separate  political  organizations — long  preserved  complete 
independence.  With  the  spread  of  feudal  subordination 
throughout  Europe,  they  became  nominally  subject  to  the 
Emperor;  but,  refusing  obedience  to  the  superiors  set  over 
them,  they  entered  into  a  solemn  alliance,  renewed  from  time 
to  time,  to  resist  outer  enemies.  Details  of  their  history  need 
not  detain  us.  The  fact  of  moment  is  that  in  these  three 
cantons,  which  physically  favoured  in  so  great  a  degree  the 
maintenance  of  independence  by  individuals  and  by  groups, 
the  people,  while  framing  for  themselves  free  governments, 
united  on  equal  terms  for  joint  defence.  And  it  was  these 
typical  "  Swiss,"  as  they  were  the  first  to  be  called,  whose 
union  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  larger  unions  which,  through 
varied  fortunes,  eventually  grew  up.  Severally  independent 
as  were  the  cantons  composing  these  larger  unions,  there  at 
first  existed  feuds  among  them,  which  were  suspended  during 
times  of  joint  defence.  Only  gradually  did  the  league  pass 
from  temporary  and  unsettled  forms  to  a  permanent  and 
settled  form.  Two  facts  of  significance  should  be 

added.  One  is  that,  at  a  later  date,  a  like  process  of  resist- 
ance, federation,  and  emancipation  from  feudal  tyranny, 
among  separate  communities  occupying  small  mountain  val- 
leys, took  place  in  the  Orisons  and  in  the  Valais:  regions 
which,  though  mountainous,  were  more  accessible  than  those 
of  the  Oberland  and  its  vicinity.  The  other  is  that  the  more 
level  cantons  neither  so  early  nor  so  completely  gained  their 
independence;  and,  further,  that  their  internal  constitutions 
were  less  free  in  form.  A  marked  contrast  existed  between 
the  aristocratic  republics  of  Berne,  Lucerne,  Fribourg,  and 
Soleure,  and  the  pure  democracies  of  the  forest  cantons  and 
the  Orisons;  in  the  last  of  which  "every  little  hamlet 
resting  in  an  A]i)iiu'  valley,  or  perched  on  mountain  crag, 
was  an  indcixnulcnt  connuunity,  of  which  all  the  members 


384  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

wore  absolutely  equal — entitled  to  vote  in  every  assembly, 
and  qualitied  for  every  public  function."  "  Each  hamlet  had 
its  own  laws,  jurisdiction^  and  privileges;"  while  the  hamlets 
were  federated  into  communes,  the  communes  into  districts, 
and  the  districts  into  a  league. 

Lastly,  with  the  case  of  Switzerland  may  be  associated  that 
of  San  Marino — a  little  republic  which,  seated  in  the  Apen- 
nines, and  having  its  centre  on  a  clilf  a  thousand  feet  high, 
has  retained  its  independence  for  lifteen  centuries.  Here 
8,000  people  are  governed  by  a  senate  of  60  and  by  captains 
elected  every  half-year:  assemblies  of  the  whole  peojile  being 
called  on  important  occasions.  There  is  a  standing  army  of 
18;  "  taxation  is  reduced  to  a  mere  nothing;  "  and  officials 
are  paid  by  the  honour  of  serving. 

One  noteworthy  diiference  between  the  compound  heads 
arising  under  physical  conditions  of  the  kinds  exemplified, 
must  not  be  overlooked — the  difference  between  the  oligarchic 
fonn  and  the  popular  form.  As  shown  at  the  outset  of  this 
section,  if  each  of  the  groups  united  by  militant  cooperation 
is  despotically  ruled — if  the  groups  are  severally  framed  on 
the  patriarchal  type,  or  are  severally  governed  by  men  of 
supposed  divine  descent;  then  the  compound  head  becomes 
one  in  which  the  people  at  large  have  no  share.  But  if,  as  in 
these  modem  cases,  patriarchal  authority  has  decayed;  or  if 
belief  in  divine  descent  of  rulers  has  been  undermined  by  a 
creed  at  variance  with  it ;  or  if  peaceful  habits  have  weakened 
that  coercive  authority  which  war  ever  strengthens;  then  the 
compound  head  is  no  longer  an  assembly  of  petty  despots. 
With  the  progress  of  these  changes  it  becomes  more  and  more 
a  head  formed  of  those  wlio  exorcise  ])ower  not  by  right  of 
position  but  by  right  of  appointment. 

§  487.  There  are  other  conditions  which  favour  the  rise  of 
compound  heads,  temporary  if  not  permanent — those,  name- 
ly, which  occur  at  the  dissolutions  of  preceding  organizations. 
Among  peoples  habituated  for  ages  to  personal  rule,  having 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  386 

sentiments  appropriate  to  it,  and  no  conception  of  anything 
else,  the  fall  of  one  despot  is  at  once  followed  by  the  rise  of 
another;  or,  if  a  large  personally-governed  empire  collapses, 
its  parts  severally  generate  governments  for  themselves  of 
like  kind.  But  among  less  servile  peoples,  the  breaking  up 
of  political  systems  having  single  heads,  is  apt  to  be  followed 
by  the  establishment  of  others  having  compound  heads; 
especially  where  there  is  a  simultaneous  separation  into  parts 
which  have  not  local  governments  of  stable  kinds.  Under 
such  circumstances  there  is  a  return  to  the  primitive  state. 
The  pre-existing  regulative  system  having  fallen,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  community  are  left  without  any  controlling  power 
save  the  aggregate  will ;  and  political  organization  having  to 
commence  afresh,  the  form  first  assumed  is  akin  to  that  which 
we  see  in  the  assembly  of  the  savage  horde,  or  in  the  modern 
public  meeting.  Whence  there  presently  results  the  rule  of 
a  select  few  subject  to  the  approval  of  the  many. 

In  illustration  may  first  be  taken  the  rise  of  the  Italian 
republics.  When,  during  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries,  the 
German  Emperors,  who  had  long  been  losing  their  power  to 
restrain  local  antagonisms  in  Italy  and  the  outrages  of 
wandering  robber  bands,  failed  more  than  ever  to  protect 
their  subject  communities,  and,  as  a  simultaneous  result, 
exercised  diminished  control  over  them;  it  became  at  once 
necessary  and  practicable  for  the  Italian  towns  to  develop 
political  organizations  of  their  own.  Though  in  these  towns 
there  were  remnants  of  the  old  Roman  organization,  this  had 
obviously  become  efi^ete;  for,  in  time  of  danger,  there  was  an 
assembling  of  "  citizens  at  the  sound  of  a  great  bell,  to 
concert  together  the  means  for  their  common  defence." 
Doubtless  on  such  occasions  were  marked  out  the  rudiments 
of  those  republican  constitutions  which  afterwards  arose. 
Though  it  is  alleg(>d  that  the  German  Emperors  allowed  the 
towns  to  form  those  constitutions,  yet  we  may  reasonably 
conclude,  rather,  tliat  having  no  care  further  than  to  get  their 
tribute,  they  made  no  elforts  to  prevent  the  towns  from 


386  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

forming  tliem.  And  tliougli  Sismoiidi  says  of  the  toAvns- 
people — ''  ils  cliercherent  ii  se  coustituer  sur  le  modele  de  la 
republique  romaiue ; "  yet  we  may  question  whether,  in  those 
dark  days,  the  people  knew  enough  of  Roman  institutions  to 
be  influenced  by  their  knowledge.  With  more  probability 
may  we  infer  that  "  this  meeting  of  all  the  men  of  the 
state  capable  of  bearing  arms  .  .  .  in  the  great  square," 
originally  called  to  take  measures  for  repelling  aggressors — a 
meeting  which  must,  at  the  very  outset,  have  been  swayed 
by  a  group  of  dominant  citizens  and  must  have  chosen 
leaders,  was  itself  the  republican  government  in  its  incipient 
state.  Meetings  of  this  kind,  first  held  on  occasions  of 
emergency,  would  gradually  come  into  use  for  deciding  all 
important  ]iul)lic  questions.  Repetition  would  bring  greater 
regularity  in  the  modes  of  procedure,  and  greater  detiniteness 
in  the  divisions  formed ;  ending  in  compound  political  heads, 
presided  over  by  elected  chiefs.  And  that  this  was  the  case 
in  those  early  stages  of  which  there  remain  but  vague 
accounts,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  a  similar,  though  some- 
what more  definite,  process  afterwards  occurred  at  Florence, 
when  the  usurping  nobles  were  overthrown.  Records  tell  us 
that  in  1250  "  the  citizens  assembled  at  the  same  moment  in 
the  square  of  Santa  Croce ;  they  divided  themselves  into  fifty 
groups,  of  which  each  group  chose  a  captain,  and  thus 
formed  companies  of  militia:  a  council  of  these  officers  was 
the  first-born  authority  of  this  newly  revived  republic." 
Clearly,  that  sovereignty  of  the  people  which,  for  a  time, 
characterized  these  small  governments,  would  inevitably  arise 
if  the  political  form  grew  out  of  the  original  public  meeting; 
while  it  would  be  unlikely  to  have  arisen  bad  the  political 
form  been  artificially  devised  by  a  limited  class. 

That  this  interpretation  hannonizes  with  the  facts  which, 
modem  times  have  furnislied,  scarcely  needs  pointing  out. 
On  an  immensely  larger  scale  and  in  ways  variously  modified, 
here  by  the  slow  collapse  of  an  old  regime  and  there  by  com- 
bination for  war,  the  rise  of  the  first  French  Republic  and  of 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  387 

the  American  Republic  have  similarly  shown  us  this  tendency 
towards  resumption  of  the  primitive  form  of  political  organi- 
zation, when  a  decayed  or  otherwise  incapable  government 
collapses.  Obscured  by  complicating  circumstances  and 
special  incidents  as  these  transformations  were,  we  may 
recognize  in  them  the  play  of  the  same  general  causes. 

§  488.  In  the  last  chapter  we  saw  that,  as  conditions  deter- 
mine, the  first  element  of  the  tri-une  political  structure  may 
be  differentiated  from  the  second  in  various  degrees:  begin- 
ning with  the  warrior-chief,  slightly  predominant  over  other 
warriors,  and  ending  with  the  divine  and  absolute  king 
widely  distinguished  from  the  select  few  next  to  him.  By 
the  foregoing  examples  we  are  shown  that  the  second  element 
is,  as  conditions  determine,  variously  differentiated  from  the 
third:  being  at  the  one  extreme  qualitatively  distinguished 
in  a  high  degree  and  divided  from  it  by  an  impassable  barrier, 
and  at  the  other  extreme  almost  merged  into  it. 

Here  we  are  introduced  to  the  truth  next  to  be  dealt  with; 
that  not  only  do  conditions  determine  the  various  forms  which 
compound  heads  assume,  but  that  conditions  determine  the 
various  changes  they  undergo.  There  are  two  leading  kinds 
of  such  changes — those  through  which  the  comiiound  head 
passes  towards  a  less  popular  form,  and  those  through  which 
it  passes  towards  a  more  popidar  form.  AVe  will  glance  at 
them  in  this  order. 

Progressive  narrowing  of  the  compound  head  is  one  of  the 
concomitants  of  continued  military  activity.  Setting  out 
with  the  case  of  Sparta,  the  constitution  of  which  in  its  early 
form  differed  but  little  from  that  which  the  Iliad  shows 
us  existed  among  the  Homeric  Greeks,  we  first  see  the 
tendency  towards  concentration  of  power,  in  the  regulation, 
made  a  century  after  Lykurgus,  that  "  in  case  the  people 
decided  crookedly,  the  senate  with  the  kings  should  reverse 
their  decisions;  "  and  then  we  see  that  later,  in  consequence 
of  the  gravitation  of  property  into  fewer  hands, '"  the  number 


888  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

of  qualified  citizens  went  on  continually  diminish in<:!;:  ''  the 
imjilication  being;  not  only  a  relatively-increased  power  of  the 
oligarchy,  but,  })robably,  a  growing  supremacy  of  the  wealth- 
ier members  within  the  oligarchy  itself.  Turning  to  the  case 
of  Ilome,everniilitant,  we  find  that  in  course  of  time  inequali- 
ties increased  to  the  extent  that  the  senate  became  "  an 
order  of  lords,  filling  up  its  ranks  by  hereditary  succession, 
and  exercising  collegiate  misrule."  Moreover,  "  out  of  the 
evil  of  oligarchy  there  emerged  the  still  worse  evil  of  usurpa- 
tion of  power  by  particular  families."  In  the  Italian  Repub- 
lics, again,  perpetually  at  war  one  with  another,  there  resulted 
a  kindred  narrowing  of  the  governing  body.  The  nobility, 
deserting  their  castles, began  to  direct  "the  municipal  govern- 
ment of  the  cities,  which  consequently,  during  this  period  of 
the  Republics,  fell  chiefly  into  the  hands  of  the  superior  fami- 
lies." Then  at  a  later  stage,  when  industrial  progress  had 
generated  wealthy  commercial  classes,  these,  competing  with 
the  nobles  for  power,  and  finally  displacing  them,  repeated 
within  their  res})ective  bodies  this  same  process.  The  richer 
gilds  deprived  the  poorer  of  their  shares  in  the  choice  of  the 
ruling  agencies;  the  privileged  class  was  continually  dimi- 
nished by  disqualifying  regulations;  and  newly  risen  families 
were  excluded  by  those  of  long  standing.  So  that,  as  Sis- 
mondi  points  out,  those  of  the  numei'ous  Italian  Re])ublics 
which  remained  nominally  such  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  were,  like  "  Sienna  and  Lucca,  each  governed  by  a 
single  caste  of  citizens:  .  .  .  had  no  longer  popular  govern- 
ments." A  kindred  result  occurred  among  the  Dutch. 
During  the  wars  of  the  Flemish  cities  with  the  nobles  and 
with  one  another,  the  relatively  popular  governments  of  the 
towns  were  narrowed.  The  greater  gilds  excluded  the  lesser 
from  the  ruling  body;  and  their  members,  "  clothed  in  the 
municipal  purple  .  .  .  ruled  with  the  power  of  an  aristo- 
cracy .  .  .  the  local  government  was  often  an  oligarchy, 
while  the  spirit  of  the  burghers  was  ])ecu]iarly  democratic." 
And  with  these  ilhisti-af  ions  may  be  joined  that  furnished  by 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  389 

those  Swiss  cantons  which,  physically  characterized  in  ways 
less  favourable  than  the  others  to  personal  independence, 
were  at  the  same  time  given  to  wars,  offensive  as  well  as 
defensive.  Berne,  Lucerne,  Fribourg,  Soleure,  acquired 
political  constitutions  in  large  measure  oligarchic;  and  in 
"  Berae,  where  the  nobles  had  always  been  in  the  ascendant, 
the  entire  administration  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  few 
families,  with  whom  it  had  become  hereditary." 

We  have  next  to  note  as  a  cause  of  progressive  modification 
in  compound  heads,  that,  like  simple  heads,  they  are  apt  to 
be  subordinated  by  their  administrative  agents.  The  earliest 
case  to  be  named  is  one  in  which  this  effect  is  exemplified 
along  with  the  last — the  case  of  Sparta.  Originally  appointed 
by  the  kings  to  perform  prescribed  duties,  the  cpliors  first 
made  the  kings  subordinate,  and  eventually  subordinated  the 
senate;  so  that  they  became  substantially  the  rulers.  From 
this  we  may  pass  to  the  instance  supplied  by  Venice,  w^here 
power,  once  exercised  by  the  people,  gradually  lapsed  into 
the  hands  of  an  executive  body,  the  members  of  which, 
habitually  re-elected,  and  at  death  replaced  by  their  children, 
became  an  aristocracy,  whence  there  eventually  grew  the 
council  of  ten,  who  were,  like  the  Spartan  ephors,  "  charged 
to  guard  the  security  of  the  state  with  a  power  higher  than 
the  law; "  and  who  thus,  "restrained  by  no  rule,"  constituted 
the  actual  government.  Through  its  many  revolutions  and 
changes  of  constitution,  Florence  exhibited  like  tendencies. 
The  appointed  administrators,  now  signoria,  now  priors, 
became  able,  during  their  terms  of  office,  to  effect  their 
private  ends  even  to  the  extent  of  suspending  the  constitu- 
tion :  getting  the  forced  assent  of  the  assembled  people,  who 
were  surrounded  by  armed  men.  And  then,  eventually,  the 
head  executive  agent,  nominally  re-elected  from  time  to  time 
but  practically  ])ermancnt,  became,  in  the  person  of  Cosmo 
de'  Medici,  the  founder  of  an  inherited  headship. 

But  the  liability  of  the  compound  political  head  to  become 
subject  to  its  civil  agents,  is  far  less  than  its  liability  to 


390  rOLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

become  subject  to  its  military  agents.  From  tbc  earliest 
times  this  liability  has  been  exemplified  and  commented 
upon;  and,  familiar  thongh  it  is,  I  must  here  illustrate  and 
emphasize  it,  because  it  directly  bears  on  one  of  the  cardinal 
truths  of  political  theory.  Setting  out  with  the  Greeks,  we 
observe  that  the  tyrants,  by  whom  oligarchies  were  so  often 
overthrown,  had  armed  forces  at.  their  disposal.  Either 
the  tyrant  was  "  the  executive  magistrate,  upon  whom  the 
oligarchy  themselves  had  devolved  important  administrative 
powers;  "  or  he  was  a  demagogue,  who  pleaded  the  alleged 
interests  of  the  community,  "  in  order  to  surround  "  himself 
"  with  armed  defenders:  "  soldiers  being  in  either  case  the 
agents  of  his  usurpation.  And  then,  in  Rome,  we  see  the  like 
done  by  the  successful  general.  As  Macchiavelli  remarks — 
"  For  the  further  abroad  they  [the  generals]  carried  their  arms,  the 
more  necessary  such  prolongations  [of  their  commissions]  appeared,  and 
the  more  common  they  became ;  hence  it  arose,  in  the  first  place,  that 
but  a  few  of  their  Citizens  could  be  employed  in  the  command  of  armies, 
and  consequently  few  were  capable  of  acquiring  any  considerable  degree 
of  experience  or  reputation ;  and  in  the  next,  that  when  a  Commander 
in  chief  was  continued  for  a  long  time  in  that  post,  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  corrupting  his  army  to  such  a  degree  that  the  Soldiers  entirely 
threw  off  tlieir  obedience  to  the  Senate,  and  acknowledged  no  authority 
but  his.  To  this  it  was  owing  that  Sylla  and  Marius  found  means  to 
debauch  their  armies  and  make  them  fight  against  their  country;  and 
that  Julius  Caesar  was  enabled  to  make  himself  absolute  in  Rome. " 
The  Italian  Republics,  again,  furnish  many  illustrations.  By 
the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  those  of  Lombardy 
"  all  submitted  themselves  to  the  military  power  of  some 
nobles  to  whom  tli(\y  had  entrusted  the  command  of  their 
militias,  and  thus  all  lost  their  liberty."  Later  times  and 
nearer  regions  yield  instances.  At  home,  Cromwell  showed 
how  the  successful  general  tends  to  become  autocrat.  In  the 
Ketherlands  the  same  thing  was  exemplified  by  the  Van 
Arteveldes,  father  and  son,  and  again  by  ]\Iaurice  of  Nassau; 
and,  but  for  form's  .sake,  it  wouhl  be  needless  to  name  the  case 
of  Xapoleon.  It  should  be  added  that  not  only  by  command 
of  armed  forces  is  the  military  chief  enabled  to  seize  on 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  391 

supreme  power;  but  acquired  popularity,  especially  in  a 
militant  nation,  places  him  in  a  position  which  makes  it 
relatively  easy  to  do  this.  Neither  their  own  experience  nor 
the  experiences  of  other  nations  throughout  the  past,  pre- 
vented the  French  from  lately  making  Marshal  Macmahon 
executive  head;  and  even  the  Americans,  in  moi-e  than  once 
choosing  General  Grant  for  President,  proved  that,  predomi- 
nantly industrial  though  their  society  is,  militant  activity 
promptly  caused  an  incipient  change  towards  the  militant 
type,  of  which  an  essential  trait  is  the  union  of  civil  headship 
with  military  headship. 

From  the  influences  which  narrow  compound  political 
headships,  or  change  them  into  single  ones,  let  us  pass  to  the 
influences  which  widen  them.  The  case  of  Athens  is,  of 
course,  the  first  to  be  considered.  To  understand  this  we 
must  remember  that  up  to  the  time  of  Solon,  democratic 
government  did  not  exist  in  Greece.  The  only  actual  forms 
were  the  oligarchic  and  the  despotic ;  and  in  those  early  days, 
before  political  speculation  began,  it  is  unlikely  that  there 
was  recognized  in  theory,  a  social  form  entirely  unknown  in 
practice.  AVe  have,  therefore,  to  exclude  the  notion  that 
popular  government  arose  in  Athens  under  the  guidance  of 
any  preconceived  idea.  As  having  the  same  implication 
should  be  added  the  fact  that  (Athens  being  governed  by  an 
oligarchy  at  the  time)  the  Solonian  legislation  served  but  to 
qualify  and  broaden  the  oligarchy  and  remove  crying  in- 
justices. In  seeking  the  causes  of  change  which 
worked  through  Solon,  and  also  made  practicable  the  re-orga- 
nization he  initiated,  we  shall  find  them  to  lie  in  the  direct  and 
indirect  influences  of  trade.  Grote  comments  on  "  the  anx- 
iety, both  of  Solon  and  of  Drake,  to  enforce  among  their  fel- 
low-citizens industrious  and  self -maintaining  habits:"  aproof 
that,  even  before  Solon's  time,  there  was  in  Attica  little  or  no 
reprobation  of  '^sedentary  industry,  which  in  most  other  parts 
of  Greece  was  regarded  as  comparatively  dishonourable." 
Moreover,  Solon  was  himself  in  early  life  a  trader;    and  his 


392  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

legislation  "  provided  for  traders  and  artizans  a  new  home  at 
Athens,  giving  the  first  encouragement  to  that  numerous 
town-population,  both  in  the  city  and  in  the  Peirirus,  which 
we  find  actually  residing  there  in  the  succeeding  century." 
The  immigrants  who  flocked  into  Attica  because  of  its  greater 
security,  Solon  was  anxious  to  turn  rather  to  manufacturing- 
industry  than  to  cultivation  of  a  soil  naturally  poor;  and  one 
result  was  ''  a  dc})arture  from  the  primitive  temj)er  of  Atti- 
cism, which  tended  both  to  cantonal  residence  and  rural  occu- 
pation; "  while  another  result  was  to  increase  the  number  of 
people  who  stood  outside  those  gentile  and  ])hratric  divisions, 
which  were  concomitants  of  the  patriarchal  type  and  of  per- 
sonal rule.  And  then  the  constitutional  changes  made  by 
Solon  were  in  leading  respects  towards  industrial  organiza- 
tion. The  introduction  of  a  property-qualification  for  classes, 
instead  of  a  birth-qualification,  diminished  the  rigidity  of  the 
political  form;  since  acquirement  of  wealth  by  industry,  or 
otherwise,  made  possible  an  admission  into  the  oligarchy,  or 
among  others  of  the  privileged.  By  forbidding  self-enslave- 
ment of  the  debtor,  and  by  emancipating  those  who  had  been 
self-enslaved,  his  laws  added  largely  to  the  enfranchised  class 
as  distinguished  from  the  slave-class.  Otherwise  regarded, 
this  change,  leaving  equitable  contracts  untouched,  prevented 
those  inequitable  contracts  under  which,  by  a  lien  on  himself, 
a  man  gave  more  than  an  equivalent  for  the  sum  he  borrowed. 
And  with  a  decreasing  number  of  cases  in  which  there  existed 
the  relation  of  master  and  slave,  went  an  increasing  number 
of  cases  in  which  benefits  were  exchanged  under  agreement. 
The  odium  attaching  to  that  lending  at  interest  which  ended 
in  slavery  of  the  debtor,  having  disa})peared,  legitimate  lend- 
ing became  general  and  unopposed ;  the  rate  of  interest  was 
free;  and  accumulated  capital  was  made  available.  Then,  as 
cooperating  cause,  and  as  ever-increasing  consequence,  came 
the  growth  of  a  population  favourably  circumstanced  for  act- 
ing in  concert.  T"r])an  ])('ople  who,  daily  in  contact,  gather 
one  another's  ideas  and  feelings,  and  who,  by  (juickly-diff used 


COMPOUND  POLITICAL  HEADS.  393 

intelligence  are  rapidly  assembled,  can  cooperate  far  more 
readily  than  people  scattered  through  rural  districts.  AVith 
all  which  direct  and  indirect  results  of  industrial  develop- 
ment, must  be  joined  the  ultimate  result  on  character,  pro- 
duced by  daily  fulfilling  and  enforcing  contracts — a  discipUne 
which,  while  requiring  each  man  to  recognize  the  claims  of 
others,  also  requires  him  to  maintain  his  own.  In  Solon 
himself  this  attitude  which  joins  assertion  of  personal  rights 
with  respect  for  the  rights  of  others,  was  well  exemplified; 
since,  when  his  influence  was  great  he  refused  to  become  a 
despot,  though  pressed  to  do  so,  and  in  his  latter  days  he 
resisted  at  the  risk  of  death  the  establishment  of  a  despo- 
tism. In  various  ways,  then,  increasing  industrial 
activity  tended  to  widen  the  original  oligarchic  structure. 
And  though  these  effects  of  industrialism,  joined  with  subse- 
quently-accumulated effects,  were  for  a  long  time  held  in 
check  by  the  usurj^ing  Peisistratidas,  yet,  being  ready  to  show 
themselves  when,  some  time  after  the  expulsion  of  these 
tyrants,  there  came  the  Kleisthenian  revolution,  they  were 
doubtless  instrumental  in  then  initiating  the  popular  form  of 
government. 

Though  not  in  so  gi'eat  a  degree,  yet  in  some  degree,  the 
same  causes  operated  in  liberalizing  the  Roman  oligarchy. 
Rome  "  was  indebted  for  the  commencement  of  its  import- 
ance to  international  commerce;  "  and,  as  Mommsen  points 
out,  "  the  distinction  between  Rome  and  the  mass  of  the 
other  Latin  towns,  must  certainly  be  traced  back  to  its  com- 
mercial position,  and  to  the  type  of  character  produced  by 
that  position  .  .  .  Rome  was  the  emporium  of  the  Latin 
districts."  Moreover,  as  in  Athens,  though  doubtless  to  a 
smaller  extent,  trade  brought  an  increasing  settlement  of 
strangers,  to  whom  rights  were  given,  and  who,  joined  with 
emancipated  slaves  and  with  clients,  formed  an  industrial 
population,  the  eventual  inclusion  of  which  in  the  burgess- 
body  caused  that  widening  of  the  constitution  effected  by 
Servius  Tullius. 


394  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

The  Italian  Republics  of  later  days  again  show  us,  in  nume- 
rous cases,  this  connexion  between  trading  activities  and  a 
freer  form  of  rule.  The  towns  were  industrial  centres. 
"The  merchants  of  Genoa,  Pisa,  Florence,  and  Venice  supplied 
Europe  with  the  products  of  the  Mediterranean  and  of  the  East :  the 
bankers  of  Lombardy  instructed  the  world  in  the  mysteries  of  finance, 
and  foreign  exchanges:  Italian  artificers  taught  the  workmen  of  other 
countries  the  highest  skill  in  the  manufacture  of  steel,  lion,  bronze, 
silk,  glass,  porcelain,  and  jewelry.  Italian  shops,  with  their  dazzling 
array  of  luxuries,  excited  t\\e  admiration  and  envy  of  foreigners  from 
less  favoured  lands." 

Then,  on  looking  into  their  histories,  we  hnd  that  industrial 
gilds  were  the  bases  of  their  political  organizations;  that  the 
upper  mercantile  classes  became  the  rulers,  in  some  cases" 
excluding  the  nobles;  and  that  while  external  wars  and  in- 
ternal feuds  tended  continually  to  revive  narrower,  or  more 
personal,  forms  of  rule,  rebellions  of  the  industrial  citizens 
occasionally  happening,  tended  to  re-establish  popular  rule. 

When  we  join  with  these  the  like  general  connexions  that 
arose  in  the  Xetherlands  and  in  the  llanse  towns — when  we 
remember  the  libcrali/ntion  of  our  own  ])olitical  institutions 
which  has  gone  along  with  growiug  industrialism — when  we 
observe  that  the  towns  more  than  tlio  country,  and  the  great 
industrial  centres  more  tlian.tlie  small  ones,  have  given  the 
impulses  to  these  changes;  it  becomes  uuipiostionable  that 
while  by  increase  of  militant  activities  compound  headships 
are  narrower,  they  are  widened  in  proportion  as  industrial 
activities  become  predominant. 

§  489.  In  common  with  the  results  reached  in  preceding 
chapters,  the  results  above  reached  show  that  types  of  poli- 
tical organization  are  not  matters  of  deliberate  choice.  It  is 
common  to  speak  of  a  society  as  though  it  had,  once  upon  a 
time,  decided  on  the  form  of  government  which  thereafter 
existed  in  it.  Even  ^fr.  Orote,  in  his  comparison  between  the 
institutions  of  ancient  Greece  and  those  of  medisrval  Europe 
(vol.  iii.  ])]).  10 — 12),  tacitly  implies  that  conceptions  of  the 


COMPOUND   POLITICAL  HEADS.  395 

advantages  or  dLsadvaiitages  of  this  or  that  arrangement,  fur- 
nished motives  for  establishing  or  maintaining  it.  But,  as 
gathered  together  in  the  foregoing  sections,  the  facts  show 
that  as  with  the  genesis  of  simple  political  heads,  so  with 
the  genesis  of  comf)Ound  political  heads,  conditions  and  not 
intentions  determine. 

Recognizing  the  truth  that  independence  of  character  is  a 
factor,  but  ascribing  this  independence  of  character  to  the 
continued  existence  of  a  race  in  a  habitat  which  facilitates 
evasion  of  control,  we  saw  that  with  such  a  nature  so  con- 
ditioned, cooperation  in  war  causes  the  union  on  equal  terms 
of  groups  whose  heads  are  joined  to  form  a  directive  council. 
And  according  as  the  component  gTOups  are  governed  more 
or  less  autocratically,  the  directive  council  is  more  or  less 
oligarchic.  AVe  have  seen  that  in  localities  differing  so 
widely  as  do  mountain  regions,  marshes  or  mud  islands,  and 
jungles,  men  of  different  races  have  developed  political  heads 
of  this  compound  kind.  And  on  observing  that  the  localities, 
otherwise  so  unlike,  are  alike  in  being  severally  made  up  of 
parts  difficult  of  access,  we  cannot  question  that  to  this  is 
mainly  due  the  governmental  form  under  which  their  in- 
habitants unite. 

Besides  the  compound  heads  .which  are  thus  indigenous  in 
places  favouring  them,  there  are  other  compound  heads  which 
arise  after  the  break-up  of  preceding  political  organizations. 
Especially  apt  are  they  so  to  arise  where  the  people,  not 
scattered  through  a  wide  district  but  concentrated  in  a  town, 
can  easily  assemble  bodily.  Control  of  every  kind  ha^^ng 
disappeared,  it  happens  in  such  cases  that  the  aggregate  will 
has  free  play,  and  there  establishes  itself  for  a  time  that 
relatively-p(ij)ular  form  with  which  all  government  begins; 
hut,  regularly  or  irregularly,  a  superior  few  become  differen- 
tiated from  the  many;  and  of  predominant  men  some  one  is 
mad(%  directly  or  indirectly,  most  predominant. 

Compound  h(^ads  habitually  become,  in  course  of  time, 
either  narrower  or  wider.     They  are  narrowed  by  militancy, 


396  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

^vhicll  tends  ever  to  concentrate  directi\e  power  in  fewer 
hands,  and,  if  continued,  almost  certainly  changes  them  into 
simple  heads.  Conversely,  they  are  widened  by  industrial- 
ism. This,  by  gathering  together  aliens  detached  from  the 
restraints  imposed  by  patriarchal,  feudal,  or  other  such  or- 
ganizations; by  increasing  the  number  of  those  to  be  coerced 
in  comparison  with  the  number  of  those  who  have  to  coerce 
them ;  by  placing  this  larger  number  in  conditions  favouring 
concerted  action;  by  substituting  for  daily-enforced  obedi- 
ence, the  daily  fulfilment  of  voluntary  obligations  and  daily 
maintenance  of  claims;  tends  ever  towards  equalization  of 
citizenship. 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 

CONSULTATIVE    BODIES. 

§  490.  Two  parts  of  the  primitive  tri-iine  political  struc- 
ture have,  in  the  last  two  chapters,  been  dealt  with  sepa- 
rately; or,  to  speak  strictly,  the  first  has  been  considered  as 
independent  of  the  second,  and  again,  the  second  as  inde- 
pendent of  the  first:  incidentally  noting  its  relations  to  the 
third.  Here  we  have  to  treat  of  the  two  in  combination. 
Instead  of  observing  how  from  the  chief,  little  above  the  rest, 
there  is,  under  certain  conditions,  evolved  the  absolute  ruler, 
entirely  subordinating  the  select  few  and  the  many;  and 
instead  of  observing  how,  under  other  conditions,  the  select 
few  become  an  oligarchy  tolerating  no  supreme  man,  and 
keeping  the  multitude  in  subjection;  we  have  now  to  observe 
the  cases  in  which  there  is  established  a  cooperation  between 
the  first  and  the  second. 

After  chieftainship  has  become  settled,  the  chief  continues 

to  have  sundry  reasons  for  acting  in  concert  with  his  head 

men.     It  is  needful  to  conciliate  them ;   it  is  needful  to  get 

their  advice  and  willing  assistance;   and,  in  serious  matters, 

it  is  desirable  to  divide  responsibility  with  them.    Hence  the 

prevalence  of  consultative  assemblies.    In  Samoa,  "  the  chief 

of  the  village  and  the  heads  of  families  formed,  and  still  form, 

the  legislative  body  of  the  place."      Among  the  Fulahs, 

"  before  undertaking  anything  important  or  declaring  war, 

the  king  [of  Rabbah]  is  obi  iced  to  summon  a  council  of 

3U7 


398  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Mallams  and  the  priiR-ipal  people."  Of  the  IMaiulinoo  states 
we  read  that  "  iu  all  att'airs  of  importance,  the  king  calls  an 
assembly  of  the  principal  men,  or  elders,  by  whose  counsels 
he  is  directed."  And  such  cases  might  be  multiplied  inde- 
finitely. 

That  we  may  understand  the  essential  nature  of  this  in- 
stitution, and  that  we  may  see  why,  as  it  evolves,  it  assumes 
the  characters  it  does,  we  must  onqe  more  go  back  to  the 
beginning. 

§  491.  Evidence  coming  from  many  peoples  in  all  times, 
shows  that  the  consultative  body  is,  at  the  outset,  nothing 
more  than  a  council  of  war.  It  is  in  the  open-air  meeting  of 
armed  men,  that  the  cluster  of  leaders  is  first  seen  performing 
that  deliberative  function  in  respect  of  military  measures, 
which  is  subsequently  extended  to  other  measures.  Long 
after  its  deliberations  have  become  more  general  in  their 
scope,  there  survive  traces  of  this  origin. 

In  Rome,  where  the  king  was  above  all  things  the  general, 
and  where  the  senators  as  the  heads  of  clans,  were,  at  the 
outset^  war-chiefs,  the  burgesses  were  habitually,  when  called 
together,  addressed  as  "  spear-men:  "  there  survived  the  title 
which  was  naturally  given  to  them  when  they  were  present 
as  listeners  at  war-councils.  So  during  later  days  in  Italy, 
when  the  small  republics  grew  up.  Describing  the  assem- 
bling of  "  citizens  at  the  sound  of  a  great  bell,  to  concert 
together  the  means  of  their  common  defence,"  Sismondi  says 
— "  this  meeting  of  all  tiie  men  of  the  State  capable  of  bearing 
arms,  was  called  a  Parliament."  Concerning  the  gatherings 
of  the  Poles  in  early  times  we  read:^"  Such  assemblies,  be- 
fore the  establishment  of  a  senate,  and  while  the  kings  were 
limited  in  power,  were  of  frequent  occurreiu-e,  and  .  .  .  were 
attended  l)y  all  who  bore  arms;  "  and  at  a  later  stage  "  the 
comitia  pahidata,  which  assembled  during  an  interregnum, 
consisted  of  the  whole  body  of  nobles,  who  attended  in  the 
open  plain,  armed  and  equipped  as  if  for  battle."  In  Hungary, 


CONSULTATIVE  BODIES.  399 

too,  lip  to  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  "  les 
seigneurs  a  cheval  et  amies  de  pied  en  cap  comme  pour  aller 
en  guerre,  se  reunissaient  dans  le  champ  de  courses  de  Rakos, 
pres  de  Pesth,  et  la  discutaient  en  plain  air  les  affaires  puL- 
liques."  Again,  "  the  supreme  political  council  is  the  nation 
in  arms,"  sajs  Stubbs  of  the  primitive  Germans;  and  though, 
during  the  Merovingian  period,  the  popular  power  declined, 
yet  "  under  Chlodovech  and  his  immediate  successors,  the 
People  assembled  in  arms  had  a  real  participation  in  the 
resolutions  of  the  king."  Even  now  the  custom  of  going 
weaj)on  in  hand,  is  maintained  where  the  primitive  political 
form  remains.  "  To  the  present  day,"  writes  M.  de  Laveleye, 
"  the  inhabitants  of  the  outer  Rhodes  of  Appenzell  come  to 
the  general  assembly,  one  year  at  Hundwyl  and  the  other  at 
Trogen,  each  carrying  in  his  hand  an  old  sword  or  ancient 
rapier  of  the  middle  ages."  Mr.  Freeman,  too,  was  witness 
to  a  like  annual  gathering  in  Uri,  where  those  who  joined  to 
elect  their  chief  magistrate,  and  to  deliberate,  came  armed. 

It  may,  indeed,  be  alleged  that  in  early  unsettled  times, 
the  carrying  of  weapons  by  each  freeman  was  needful  for 
personal  safety ;  especially  when  a  place  of  meeting  far  from 
his  home  had  to  be  reached.  But  there  is  evidence  that 
though  this  continued  to  be  a  cause  for  going  prepared  for 
fight,  it  was  not  by  itself  a  sufficient  cause.  While  we  read 
of  the  ancient  Scandinavians  that  "  all  freemen  capable  of 
bearing  arms  were  admitted  "  to  the  national  assembly,  and 
that  after  his  election  from  "  among  the  descendants  of  the 
sacred  stock,"  ''  the  new  sovereign  was  ehn-ated  amidst  the 
clash  of  arms  and  the  shouts  of  the  multitude;  "  we  also  read 
that  "  nobody,  not  even  the  king  or  his  champions,  were 
allowed  to  come  armed  to  the  assizes." 

Even  apart  from  such  evidence,  there  is  ample  reason  to 
infer  that  the  council  of  war  originated  the  consultative  body, 
and  gave  outlines  to  its  structure.  Defence  against  enemies 
was  everywhere  the  need  which  first  prompted  joint  deli- 
beration. For  other  jmrjxiscs  individual  action,  or  action  in 
84 


400  rOLITK'AL   INSTITUTIONS. 

small  parties,  might  suffice;  but  for  insuring  the  general 
safety,  combined  action  of  the  whole  horde  or  tribe  was  ne- 
cessary; and  to  secure  this  combined  action  must  have  been 
tlie  primary  motive  for  a  political  gathering.  Moreover, 
cei'tain  constitutional  traits  of  early  assend)lies  among  the 
civilized,  j)oint  to  councils  of  war  as  having  initiated  them. 
If  we  ask  what  umst  happen  when  the  predominant  men  of 
a  tribe  debate  military  measures  in  presence  of  the  rest,  the 
reply  is  that  in  the  al)sence  of  a  developed  political  organiza- 
tion, the  assent  of  the  rest  to  any  decision  must  be  obtained  be- 
fore it  can  be  acted  ujjou;  and  the  like  must  at  first  happen 
when  many  tribes  are  united.  As  (.Jibbon  says  of  the  diet  of 
the  Tartars,  formed  of  chiefs  of  tribes  and  their  martial 
trains,  "  the  monarch  who  reviews  the  strength,  must  consult 
the  inclination,  of  an  armed  people."  Even  if,  under  such 
conditions,  the  ruling  few  could  impose  their  will  on  the 
many,  armed  like  themselves,  it  would  be  impolitic  to  do  so; 
since  success  in  war  would  be  endangered  by  dissension. 
Hence  would  arise  the  usage  of  putting  to  the  surrounding 
warriors,  the  (pi(>stion  whether  they  agreed  to  the  course 
which  the  council  of  chiefs  liad  decided  ujion.  There  would 
grow  up  a  form  such  as  that  which  had  become  established 
for  governmental  ])urposes  at  large  among  the  early  Romans, 
whose  king  or  genei-al,  asked  the  assembled  burgesses  or 
''  spear-men,"  whether  tliey  aj)proved  of  the  ])roposal  made; 
or  like  that  ascribed  by  Tacitus  to  the  primitive  Germans, 
who,  now  with  mui-murs  and  now  with  brandishing  of  spears, 
rejected  or  accepted  the  suggestions  of  their  leaders.  ^lore- 
over,  there  would  naturally  come  just  that  restricted  expres- 
sion of  popular  opinion  which  we  are  told  of.  The  Roman 
l)urgesses  were  allowed  to  answer  only  "  yes  "  or  "  no  "  to  any 
(piestion  i)ut  to  them;  and  this  is  exactly  the  simple  answer 
which  the  chief  and  head  warriors  would  require  from  the 
rest  of  the  warriors  when  war  or  peace  were  the  alternatives. 
A  kindred  restriction  existed  among  tlie  Rpartans.  Tn  addi- 
tion to  the  senate  ;nid   co-ordinate   kings,   there   was  *'  an 


CONSULTATIVE  BODIES.  401 

Ekklcsia  or  public  assembly  of  citizens,  convened  for  the 
purpose  of  approving  or  rejecting  propositions  submitted  to 
them,  with  little  or  no  liberty  of  discussion  " — a  usage  quite 
explicable  if  we  assume  that  in  the  Homeric  agora,  from 
which  the  Spartan  constitution  descended,  the  assembled 
chiefs  had  to  gain  the  assent  of  their  followers  before, im- 
portant actions  could  be  undertaken. 

Concluding,  then,  that  war  originates  political  delibera- 
tion, and  that  the  select  body  which  especially  carries  on  this 
deliberation  first  takes  shape  on  occasions  when  the  public 
safety  has  to  be  provided  for,  we  shall  be  prepared  the  better 
to  understand  the  traits  which  characterize  the  consultative 
body  in  later  stages  of  its  development. 

§  492.  Already  we  have  seen  that  at  the  outset  the  militant 
class  was  of  necessity  the  land-owning  class.  In  the  savage 
tribe  there  are  no  owners  of  the  tract  occupied,  save  the  war- 
riors who  use  it  in  common  for  hunting.  During  pastoral  life 
good  regions  for  cattle-feeding  are  jointly  held  against  intru- 
ders by  force  of  arms.  And  where  the  agricultural  stage  has 
been  reached,  communal  possession,  family  possession,  and 
individual  possession,  have  from  time  to  time  to  be  defended 
by  the  sword.  Hence,  as  was  shown,  the  fact  that  in  early 
stages  the  bearing  of  arms  and  the  holding  of  land  habitually 
go  together. 

While,  as  among  hunting  peoples,  land  continues  to  be  held 
in  common,  the  contrasts  which  arise  between  the  few  and 
the  many,  are  such  only  as  result  from  actual  or  supposed 
])ersonal  superiority  of  one  kind  or  other.  It  is  true  that,  as 
]K)inted  out,  differences  of  wealth,  in  the  shape  of  chattels, 
boats,  slaves,  cVc,  cause  some  class-ditferentiations;  and  that 
thus,  even  before  ])rivate  land-owning  begins,  quantity  of 
possessions  aids  in  distinguishing  the  governing  from  the 
governed.  When  the  jiastoral  state  is  arrived  at  and  the 
patriarchal  type  establislicd,  such  owncrshiii  as  tliere  is  vests 
in  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest;    or  if,  as  Sir  Henry  Maine 


402  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

sajs,  lie  is  to  be  considered  as  trustee  for  tlie  group,  still  liis 
trusteeship  joins  with  his  military  headship  in  giving  him 
supremacy.  At  a  later  stage,  when  lands  come  to  be  occupied 
by  settled  families  and  communities,  and  land-ownership 
gains  deiiniteness,  this  union  of  traits  in  each  head  of  a  group 
becomes  more  marked;  and,  as  was  shown  when  treating  of 
the  differentiation  of  nobles  from  freemen,  several  influences 
conspire  to  give  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest,  superiority  in 
extent  of  landed  possessions,  as  well  as  in  degree  of  power. 
Xor  is  this  fundamental  relation  changed  when  a  nobility  of 
service  replaces  a  nobility  of  birth,  and  wdien,  as  presently 
happens,  the  adherents  of  a  conquering  invader  are  rewarded 
by  portions  of  the  subjugated  territory.  Throughout,  the 
tendency  continues  to  be  for  the  class  of  military  superioi's 
to  be  identical  with  the  class  of  large  landowners. 

It  follows,  then,  that  beginning  with  the  assemblage  of 
armed  freemen,  all  of  them  holding  land  individually  or  in 
groups,  whose  council  of  leaders,  deliberating  in  presence  of 
the  rest,  are  distinguished  only  as  being  the  most  capable 
warriors,  there  will,  through  frequent  wars  and  progressing 
consolidations,  be  ])rodu('ed  a  state  in  which  this  council  of 
leaders  becomes  further  distinguished  by  the  greater  estates, 
and  consequent  greater  powers,  of  its  members.  Becom- 
ing more  and  more  contrasted  with  the  armed  freemen  at 
large,  the  consultative  body  will  tend  grad\ially  to  subor- 
dinate it,  and,  eventually  separating  itself,  will  acquire  inde- 
pendence. 

The  growth  of  this  temporary  council  of  wai-  in  wiiicli  the 
king,  acting  as  general,  summons  to  give  their  advice  the 
leaders  of  his  forces,  into  the  jx'rmanent  consultative  body  in 
which  the  king,  in  his  capacity  of  rnlcr,  ])resides  over  the 
deliberations  of  the  same  men  on  piil)li('  affairs  at  large,  is 
exemplified  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  The  consultative* 
body  is  everywhere  composed  of  minor  chiefs,  or  heads  of 
clans,  or  feudal  lords,  in  whom  tlic  military  and  civil  rule  of 
local  groups  is  habitually  joined  with  wide  ])os9essions;    and 


CONSULTATIVE   BODIES.  403 

the  examples  frequently  exhibit  this  composition  on  both  a 
small  and  a  large  scale — both  locally  and  generally.  A 

rude  and  early  form  of  the  arrangement  is  shown  in  Africa. 
We  read  of  the  Kaffirs  that  "  every  chief  chooses  from  among 
his  most  wealthy  subjects  five  or  six,  who  act  as  counsellors 
to  him.  .  .  the  great  council  of  the  king  is  composed  of 
the  chiefs  of  particular  kraals."  A  Bechiuina  tribe  "  gene- 
i-ally  includes  a  number  of  towns  or  villages,  each  having  its 
distinct  head,  under  whom  there  are  a  number  of  subordinate 
chiefs,"  who  "all  acknowledge  the  supremacy  of  the  principal 
one.  His  power,  though-  very  great  and  in  some  instances 
despotic,  is  nevertheless  controlled  by  the  minor  chiefs,  who 
in  their  pichos  or  pitslios,  their  parliament,  or  public  meet- 
ings, use  the  greatest  plainness  of  speech  in  exposing  what  they 
consider  culpable  or  lax  in  his  government."  Of  the  Wan- 
yamwezi,  Burton  says  that  the  Sultan  is  "  surrounded  by  a 
council  varying  from  two  to  a  score  of  chiefs  and  elders.  .  . 
His  authority  is  circumscribed  by  a  rude  balance  of  power; 
the  chiefs  around  him  can  probably  bring  as  many  warriors 
into  the  field  as  he  can,"  Similarly  in  Ashantee.  "  The 
caboceers  and  captains  .  .  .  claim  to  be  heard  on  all  ques- 
tions relating  to  war  and  foreign  politics.  Such  matters 
are  considered  in  a  general  assembly;  and  the  king  sometimes 
finds  it  prudent  to  yield  to  the  views  and  urgent  representa- 
ticms  of  the  majority."  From  the  ancient  American 

states,  too,  instances  may  be  cited.  In  Mexico  "'  general 
assemblies  were  presided  o\'er  by  the  king  every  eighty  days. 
They  came  to  these  meetings  from  all  parts  of  the  country;  " 
and  tlienwe  read,  furflicr,  tliat  the  highest  rank  of  nobility, 
the  Teuctli,  "  took  precedence  of  all  others  in  the  senate, 
both  in  the  order  of  sitting  and  voting:  "  showing  what  was 
the  composition  of  the  senate.  It  was  so,  too,  with  the 
'Centi-al  Americans  of  Vera  Paz.  ''  Though  the  su])reme  rule 
was  exercised  by  a  king,  there  were  inferior  lords  as  his 
coadjutoi-s,  who  mostly  wciv  titled  lords  and  vassals;  they 
formed  the  roynl  council   .   .   .   and  joined  tlie  king  in  his 


404:  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

palace  as  often  as  tliev Avcre  called  upon."  Turninc;  to 

Europe,  mention  may  lirst  be  made  of  ancient  Poland. 
Originally  formed  of  independent  tribes,  "  each  governed  by 
its  own  kiiiaz,  or  judge,  whom  age  or  reputed  wisdom  had 
raised  to  that  dignity,"  and  each  led  in  war  by  a  temporary 
voivod  or  captain,  these  tribes  had,  in  the  course  of  that  com- 
poundingaud  re-compounding  whiclnvars  })roduced,  differen- 
tiated into  classes  of  nobles  and  serfs,  over  whom  was  an 
elected  king.  Of  the  organization  which  existed  before  the 
king  lost  his  power,  we  are  told  that — 

**  Though  each  of  these  palatines,  bishops,  and  barons,  could  thus  advise 
his  sovereign,  the  formation  of  a  regular  senate  was  slow,  and  com- 
pleted only  when  experience  had  proved  its  utility.  At  first,  the  only 
subjects  on  which  the  monarch  deliberated  with  his  barons  related  to 
war:  what  he  originally  granted  through  courtesy,  or  through  diffi- 
dence in  himself,  or  with  a  view  to  lessen  his  responsibility  in  case  of 
failure,  thei/  eventually  claimed  as  a  right." 

So,  too,  during  internal  wars  and  wars  against  Rome,  the 
primitive  Germanic  tribes,  once  semi-nomadic  and  but  slight- 
ly organized,  passing  through  the  stage  in  which  armed  chiefs 
and  freemen  periodically  assembled  for  deliberations  on  war 
and  other  matters,  evolved  a  kindred  structure.  In  Carolin- 
gian  days  the  great  political  gathering  of  the  year  was 
simultaneous  with  the  great  military  levy;  and  the  military 
element  entered  into  the  foreground.  Araied  service  being 
the  essential  thing,  and  fpiestions  of  peace  and  war  being 
habitually  dominant,  it  resulted  that  all  freemen,  while  under 
obligation  to  attend,  had  also  a  right  to  be  present  at  the 
assembly  and  to  listen  to  the  deliberations.  And  tlien 
concerning  a  later  period,  as  TTallam  writes — 
"In  all  the  German  principalities  a  form  of  limited  mon.nrchy  pre- 
vailed, reflecting,  on  a  roduood  scale,  the  general  constitution  of  the 
Empire.  As  the  Emperors  shared  their  legislative  sovereignty  with 
the  diet,  so  all  the  princes  who  belonged  to  that  assembly  had  their 
own  provincial  states,  composed  of  their  feudal  vassals  and  of  their 
mediate  towns  within  their  territory." 

In  France,  too,  provincial  estates  existed  for  local  rule;  and 
there  were  consultative  assemblies  of  general  scope.     Thus 


■  OONSCTLTAf IVE  BODIES.  405 

an  "  ordinance  of  1228,  respecting  the  heretics  of  Languedoe, 
is  rendered  with  the  advice  of  our  great  men  and  prud- 
hommes;  "  and  one  "  of  1246,  concerning  levies  and  re- 
demptions in  Anjou  and  Maine,"  says  that  "  having  called 
around  us,  at  Orleans,  the  barons  and  great  men  of  the  said 
counties,  and  having  held  attentive  counsel  with  them,"  &c. 

To  meet  the  probable  criticism  that  no  notice  has  been 
taken  of  the  ecclesiastics  usually  included  in  the  consultative 
body,  it  is  needful  to  point  out  that  due  recognition  of  them 
does  not  involve  any  essential  change  in  the  account  above 
given.  Though  modern  usages  lead  us  to  think  of  the  priest- 
class  as  distinct  from  the  warrior-class,  yet  it  was  not  origi- 
nally distinct.  With  the  truth  that  habitually  in  militant 
societies,  the  king  is  at  once  commander-in-chief  and  high 
priest,  carrying  out  in  both  capacities  the  dictates  of  his  deity, 
tre  may  join  the  truth  that  the  subordinate  priest  is  usually  a 
direct  or  indirect  aider  of  the  wars  thus  supposed  to  be 
divinely  prompted.  In  illustration  of  the  one  truth  may  be 
cited  the  fact  that  before  going  to  war,  Radama,  king  of 
Madagascar,  "  acting  as  priest  as  well  as  general,  sacrificed  a 
cock  and  a  heifer,  and  oifered  a  prayer  at  the  tomb  of  xVndria- 
Masina,  his  most  renowned  ancestor."  And  in  illustration  of 
the  other  truth  may  be  cited  the  fact  that  among  the  Hebrews, 
whose  priests  accompanied  the  army  to  battle,  we  read  of 
Samuel,  a  priest  from  childhood  upwards,  as  conveying  to 
Saul  God's  command  to  "•  smite  Amalck,"  and  as  having 
himself  hewed  Agag  in  pieces.  More  or  less  active  partici- 
pation in  war  by  priests  we  everywhere  find  in  savage  and 
semi-civilized  societies;  as  among  the  Dakotas,  ^Mundrucus, 
Abipones,  Khonds,  whose  priests  decide  on  the  time  for  war, 
or  give  the  signal  for  attack ;  as  among  the  Tahitians,  whose 
priests  "bore  arms,  and  marched  with  the  warriors  to  battle; " 
as  among  the  ^Mexicans,  whose  priests,  the  habitual  instiga- 
tors of  wars,  acconipanie<l  their  idols  in  front  of  the  army,  and 
"  sacrificed  the  first  taken  ]')risoncrs  at  once;  "  as  among  the 
ancient  Egyptians,  of  win  mi  we  read  that  ''  the  priest  of  a 


406  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS; 

god  was  often  a  military  or  naval  coiiiiiunuler."  And  the 
naturalness  of  the  connexion  thus  connuon  in  rude  and  in 
ancient  societies,  is  shown  by  its  revival  in  later  societies, 
notwithstanding  an  adverse  creed.  After  Christianity  had 
passed  out  of  its  early  non-political  stage  into  the  stage  in 
which  it  became  a  State-religion,  its  priests,  during  actively 
militant  periods,  re-acquired  the  primitive  militant  character. 
"  By  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century  [in  France],  regular 
military  service  on  the  part  of  the  clergy  was  already  fully 
developed."  In  the  early  feudal  period,  bishops,  abbots,  and 
priors,  became  feudal  lords,  with  all  the  powers  and  responsi- 
bilities attaching  to  their  positions.  They  had  bodies  of  troops 
in  their  pay,  took  towns  and  fortresses,  sustained  sieges,  led 
or  sent  troops  in  aid  of  kings.  And  Orderic,  in  1094, 
describes  the  priests  as  leading  their  parishioners  to  battle, 
and  the  abbots  their  vassals.  Though  in  recent  times  Church 
dignitaries  do  not  actively  participate  in  war,  yet  their 
advisalory  function  respecting  it — often  proni})ting  rather 
than  restraining — has  not  even  now  ceased';  as  among  our- 
selves was  lately  shown  in  the  vote  of  the  bishops,  who,  with 
one  exception,  approved  the  invasion  of  Afghanistan. 

That  the  consultative  body  habitually  includes  ecclesiastics, 
does  not,  therefore,  conflict  with  the  statement  that,  beginning 
as  a  war-council,  it  grows  into  a  j)crmanent  assembly  of  minor 
military  heads. 

§  408.  Under  a  diflFerent  form,  there  is  here  partially  re- 
peated what  was  set  forth  wlien  treating  of  oligarchies:  the 
diiferenee  arising  from  inclusion  of  the  king  as  a  co-operative 
factor.  ]\roreover,  inucli  that  was  before  said  respecting  the 
influence  of  war  in  narrowing  oligarchies,  applies  to  that 
narrowing  of  the  j)i'iniitiv('  consultative  assembly  by  which 
there  is  produced  from  if  a  body  of  land-owning  military 
nobles,  l^ut  the  consolidation  of  small  societies  into  large 
ones  eflfected  l)y  war,  brings  other  influences  which  join  in 
working'  this  result. 


CONSULTATIVE  BODIES.  407 

In  early  assemblies  of  men  similarly  armed,  it  must  happen 
that  though  the  inferior  many  will  recognize  that  authority 
of  the  superior  few  which  is  due  to  their  leaderships  as 
warriors,  to  their  clan-headships,  or  to  their  supposed  super- 
natural descent ;  yet  the  superior  few,  conscious  that  they  are 
no  match  for  the  inferior  many  in  a  physical  contest,  will  be 
obliged  to  treat  their  opinions  with  some  deference — will  not 
be  able  completely  to  monopolize  power.  But  as  fast  as  there 
progresses  that  class-differentiation  before  described,  and  as 
fast  as  the  superior  few  acquire  better  weapons  than  the  in- 
ferior many,  or,  as  among  various  ancient  peoples,  have  war- 
chariots,  or,  as  in  mediaeval  Europe,  wear  coats  of  mail  or  plate 
armour  and  are  mounted  on  horses,  they,  feeling  their  ad- 
A'antage,  will  pay  less  respect  to  the  opinions  of  the  many. 
And  the  habit  of  ignoring  their  opinions  will  be  followed  by 
the  habit  of  regarding  any  expression  of  their  opinions  as  an 
impertinence. 

This  usurpation  will  be  furthered  by  the  growth  of  those 
bodies  of  armed  dependents  with  which  the  superior  few 
surround  themselves — mercenaries  and  others,  who,  while 
unconnected  with  the  common  freemen,  are  bound  by  fealty 
to  their  employers.  These,  too,  with  better  weapons  and 
defensive  appliances  than  the  mass,  will  be  led  to  regard 
them  with  contempt  and  to  aid  in  subordinating  them. 

Not  only  on  the  occasions  of  general  assemblies,  but  from 
day  to  day  in  their  respective  localities,  the  increasing  powers 
of  the  nobles  thus  caused,  will  tend  to  reduce  the  freemen 
more  and  more  to  the  rank  of  dependents;  and  especially  so 
where  the  military  service  of  such  nobles  to  their  king  is 
dispensed  with  or  allowed  to  lapse,  as  happened  in  Denmark 
about  the  thirteenth  century. 

"The  free  peasantry,  who  were  originally  independent  proprietors  of 
the  soil,  and  had  an  equal  sviflFrage  with  the  hijjhest  nobles  in  the  land, 
were  thus  compelled  to  seek  the  protection  of  these  powerful  lords,  and 
to  come  under  vassalage  to  some  neighbouring  Herremand,  or  bishop, 
or  convent.  The  provincial  diets,  or  Lands-Ting,  were  gradually  super- 
seded by  the  general  national  parliament  of  the  Dannehof  Adel-Ting, 
or  Herredag;  the  latter  being  exclusively  composed  of  the  princes,  pre- 


408  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

latcs,  and  other  great  men  of  the  kingdom.  ...  As  the  influence  of 
the  peasantry  had  declined,  whilst  the  burghers  did  not  yet  enjoy  any 
share  of  political  power,  the  constitution,  although  disjointed  and 
fluctuating,  was  rapidly  approaching  the  form  it  ultimately  assumed; 
that  of  a  feudal  and  sacerdotal  oligarchy." 

Auotlicr  iiiMuence  conducing  to  loss  of  power  by  the  armed 
freemen,  and  gain  of  power  bv  the  armed  chiefs  who'  fonn 
the  consuhative  body,  follows  that  widening  of  the  occupied 
area  which  goes  along  with  tlie  cuniponnding  and  re-com- 
pounding of  societies.  As  Kichter  remarks  of  the  Mero- 
vingian period,  "  under  Chlodovech  and  his  immediate  suc- 
cessors, the  people  assembled  in  arms  had  a  real  participa- 
tion in  the  resolutions  of  the  king.  But,  with  the  increasing 
size  of  the  kingdom,  the  meeting  of  the  entire  jieople  became 
impossible:  "  only  those  who  lived  near  the  appointed  places 
could  attend.  Two  facts,  one  already  given  under  another 
head,  may  be  named  as  illustrating  this  effect.  "  The  great- 
est national  council  in  Madagascar  is  an  assembly  of  the  peo- 
ple of  the  capital,  and  the  heads  of  the  provinces,  districts, 
towns,  villages,"  &c. ;  and,  speaking  of  the  English  Witcnage- 
mot,  Mr.  Freeman  says — "  sometimes  we  find  direct  mention 
of  the  presence  of  large  and  i)opular  classes  of  men,  as  the 
citizens  of  London  oi-  Winchester:  "  the  implication  in  both 
cases  being  that  all  freemen  had  a  right  to  attend,  but  that 
only  those  on  the  sj)ot  could  avail  themselves  of  the  right. 
This  cause  for  restriction,  which  is  commented  uixm  by  IMr. 
Freeman,  operates  in  several  wa3'S.  When  a  kingdom  has 
become  large,  the  actual  cost  of  a  journey  to  the  place  fixed 
for  the  meeting,  is  too  great  to  l)e  borne  by  a  man  who  owns 
but  a  few  acres.  Further,  there  is  the  indirect  cost  entailed 
by  loss  of  time,  which,  tq  one  who  personally  labours  or 
su])erintends  lal)Our,  is  serious.  Again,  there  is  the  danger 
M'hich  in  turbulent  times  is  considerable,  save  to  those  who  go 
Avith  bodies  of  armed  retainers.  And,  obviously,  these  deter- 
rent causes  must  tell  where,  for  the  above  reasons,  the  incen- 
tives to  attend  have  become  small. 

Yet  one  more  cause  co-operates.     An  assembly  of  all  the 


CONSULTATIVE  BODIES.  409 

armed  freemen  included  in  a  large  society,  could  they  be 
gathered,  would  Le  prevented  from  taking  active  part  in  the 
proceedings,  both  by  its  size  and  by  its  lack  of  organization. 
A  multitude  consisting  of  those  who  have  come  from  scattered 
points  over  a  wide  country,  mostly  unknown  to  one  another, 
unable  to  hold  previous  communication  and  therefore  with- 
out plans,  as  well  as  without  leaders,  cannot  cope  with  the 
relatively  small  but  well-organized  body  of  those  having 
common  ideas  and  acting  in  concert. 

K^or  should  there  be  omitted  the  fact  that  wdien  the  causes 
above  named  have  conspired  to  decrease  the  attendance  of 
men  in  arms  who  live  afar  off,  and  when  there  grows  up  the 
usage  of  summoning  the  more  important  among  them,  it 
naturally  happens  that  in  course  of  time  the  receipt  of  a 
summons  becomes  the  authority  for  attendance,  and  the 
absence  of  a  summons  becomes  equivalent  to'  the  absence  of 
a  right  to  attend. 

Here,  then,  are  several  influences,  all  directly  or  Indirectly 
consequent  upon  w^ar,  which  join  in  differentiating  the  con- 
sultative body  from  the  mass  of  armed  freemen  out  of  which 
it  arises. 

§  494.  Given  the  ruler,  and  given  the  consultative  body 
thus  arising,  there  remains  to  ask — What  are  the  causes  of 
change  in  their  relative  powers?  Always  between  these  two 
authorities  there  must  be  a  struggle — each  trying  to  subordi- 
nate the  other.  Tinder  what  conditions,  then,  is  the  king 
enabled  to  over-ride  the  consultative  body?  and  under  what 
conditions  is  the  consultative  body  enabled  to  over-ride  the 
king? 

A  belief  in  the  superhuman  nature  of  the  king  gives  him 
an  immense  advantage  in  the  contest  for  supremacy.  If  he  is 
god-descended,  open  opposition  to  his  will  by  his  advisers  is 
out  of  the  question ;  and  members  of  his  council,  singly  or  in 
combination,  dare  do  no  more  than  tender  humble  advice. 
Moreover,  if  the  line  of  succession  is  so  settled  that  there 


410  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

rarely  or  never  occur  occasions  on  which  the  king  has  to  be 
elected  by  the  chief  men,  so  that  they  have  no  opportunity  of 
choosing  one  who  will  conform  to  their  wishes,  they  are 
further  debarred  from  maintaining  any  authority.  Hence, 
habitually,  we  do  not  find  consultative  bodies  having  an  inde- 
pendent status  in  the  despotically -governed  countries  of  the 
East,  ancient  or  modern.  Though  we  read  of  the  Egyptian 
king  that  '^  he  appears  to  have  been  attended  in  war  by  the 
council  of  the  thirty,  composed  apparently  of  privy  councillors, 
scribes,  and  high  officers  of  state,"  the  implication  is  that  the 
members  of  this  council  were  functionaries,  having  such 
powers  only  as  the  king  deputed  to  them.  Similarly  in 
Babylonia  and  Assyria,  attendants  and  others  who  performed 
the  duties  of  ministers  and  advisers  to  the  god-descended 
rulers,  did  not  form  established  assemblies  for  deliberative 
purposes.  In  ancient  Persia,  too,  there  was  a  like  condition. 
The  hereditary  king,  almost  sacred  and  bearing  extravagant 
titles,  though  subject  to  some  check  from  princes  and  nobles 
or  royal  blood  who  were  leaders  of  the  army,  and  who  ten- 
dered advice,  was  not  under  the  restraint  of  a  constituted 
body  of  them.  Throughout  the  history  of  Jajian  down  to  our 
own  time,  a  kindred  state  of  things  existed.  The  Daimios 
were  required  to  reside  in  the  capital  during  prescribed  inter- 
vals, as  a  precaution  against  insubordination;  but  they  were 
never,  while  there,  called  togctlier  to  take  any  share  in  the 
government.  So  too  is  it  in  China.  We  are  tohl  that, 
"  although  there  is  nominally  no  deliberative  or  advisatory 
body  in  the  Chinese  gdvernment,  and  notliing  really  analo- 
gous to  a  congress,  parliament,  or  tiers  etat,  still  necessity 
compels  the  emperor  to  consult  and  advise  with  some  of  his 
officers."  Xor  does  Europe  fail  to  yield  us  evidence  of  like 
meaning.  I  do  not  refer  only  to  the  case  of  Russia,  but 
more  especially  to  the  ease  of  France  during  the  time 
when  monarchy  had  assumed  an  absolute  form.  Tn  the  age 
when  divines  like  Bossuet  taught  that  "  the  king  is  account- 
able to  no  one  .  .  .  the  whole  state  is  in  him,  and  the  will 


CONSULTATIVE  BODIES.  411 

of  tlie  wliole  people  is  contained  in  his  " — in  the  age  when 
the  king  (Louis  XIY.),  "  imbued  with  the  idea  of  his  omnipo- 
tence and  divine  mission,"  ''  was  regarded  by  his  subjects 
with  adoration,"  he  ''  had  extinguished  and  absorbed  even 
the  minutest  trace,  idea,  and  recollection  of  all  other  au- 
thority except  that  which  emanated  from  himself  alone." 
Along  with  establishment  of  hereditary  succession  and  ac- 
quirement of  semi-divine  character,  such  power  of  the  other 
estates  as  existed  in  early  days  had  disappeared. 

Conversely,  there  are  cases  showing  that  where  the  king 
has  never  had,  or  does  not  preserve,  the  prestige  of  supposed 
descent  from  a  god,  and  where  he  continues  to  be  elective, 
the  power  of  the  consultative  body  is  apt  to  over-ride  the 
royal  power,  and  eventually  to  suppress  it.  The  first  to  be 
named  is  that  of  Rome.  Originally  "  the  king  convoked  the 
senate  when  he  pleased,  and  laid  before  it  his  questions;  no 
senator  might  declare  his  opinion  unasked ;  still  less  might  the 
senate  meet  without  being  summoned."  But  here,  where  the 
king,  though  regarded  as  having  divine  approval  was  not  held 
to  be  of  divine  descent,  and  where,  though  usually  nominated 
by  a  predecessor  he  was  sometimes  practically  elected  by  the 
senate,  and  always  submitted  to  the  form  of  popular  assent, 
the  consultative  body  presently  became  supreme.  "  The 
senate  had  in  course  of  time  been  converted  from  a  corpora- 
tion intended  merely  to  advise  the  magistrates,  into  a  board 
commanding  the  magistrates  and  self-governing."  After- 
wards "  the  right  of  nominating  and  cancelling  senators  orig- 
inally belonging  to  the  magistrates  was  withdrawn  from 
tliem;  "  and  finally,  "the  irremovable  character  and  life- 
tenure  of  the  members  of  the  ruling  order  who  obtained  seat 
and  vote,  was  definitely  consolidated:  "  the  oligarchic  consti- 
tution became  pronounced.  The  history  of  Poland  yields  an- 
other example.  After  unions  of  simply-governed  tribes  had 
produced  small  states,  and  generated  a  nobility;  and  after 
these  small  states  lind  been  united;  there  arose  a  kingship. 
At  first  elective,  as  kingships  habitually  are,  this  continued  so 


412  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

— never  became  hereditary.  Oii  the  occasion  of  each  election 
t)Ut  of  the  royal  clan,  there  was  an  opportunity  of  choosing  for 
king  one  whose  character  the  turbulent  nobles  thought  fittest 
for  their  own  purjjoses;  and  hence  it  resulted  that  the  power 
of  the  kingship  decayed.    Eventually — 

"Of  the  tluce  orders  into  which  the  state  was  divided,  the  king, 
thougli  his  nutliority  liad  been  anciently  despotic,  was  the  least  im- 
portant. His  dignity  was  unaccoirtpanied  with  power;  he  was  mere- 
ly the  president  of  the  senate,  and  the  chief  judge  of  the  republic." 

And  then  there  is  an  instance  furnished  by  Scandinavia, 
already  named  in  another  relation.  Danish,  Norwegian,  and 
Swedish  kings  were  originally  elective;  and  though,  on 
sundry  occasions,  hereditary  succession  became  for  a  time  the 
usage,  there  were  repeated  lapses  into  the  elective  form,  with 
the  result  that  predominance  was  gained  by  the  feudal  chief- 
tains and  prelates  forming  the  consultative  body. 

§495.  The  second  element  in  the  tri-une  political  struc- 
ture is  thus,  like  tlie  first,  developed  by  militancy.  By  this 
the  ruler  is  eventually  separated  from  all  below  him;  and  by 
this  the  superior  few  are  gradually  integrated  into  a  delibera- 
tive body,  separated  from  the  inferior  many. 

That  the  council  of  war,  formed  of  leading  warriors  who 
debate  in  presence  of  their  followers,  is  the  germ  out  of  which 
the  consultative  body  arises,  is  im])li('(l  by  the  survival  of 
usages  wliicli  show  that  a  ])olitical  gathering  is  originally  a 
gathering  of  armed  men.  In  harmony  with  this  implication 
are  such  facts  as  that  after  a  com])aratively  settled  state  has 
been  reached,  the  ])ower  of  the  assembled  jx'ople  is  limited  to 
accepting  or  rejecting  the  proposals  made,  and  that  the  mem- 
bers of  the  consultative  body,  summoned  by  the  ruler,  who  is 
also  the  general,  give  their  oj)inions  only  wlu'ii  invited  by  him 
to  do  so. 

T^or  do  we  lack  clues  to  the  process  by  which  the  primitive 
w^ar-council  grows,  consolidates,  and  separates  itself.  Within 
the  warrior  class,  which  is  also  the  land-owning  class,  war 


CONSULTATIVE  BODIES.  413 

produces  increasing  differences  of  wealth  as  well  as  increas- 
ing- differences  of  status;  so  that,  along  with  the  com- 
pounding and  re-compounding  of  groups,  brought  about 
by  war,  the  military  leaders  come  to  be  distinguished  as 
large  land-owners  and  local  rulers.  Hence  members  of  the 
consultative  body  become  contrasted  with  the  freemen  at 
large,  not  only  as  leading  warriors  are  contrasted  with  their 
followers,  but  still  more  as  men  of  wealth  and  autli(jrity. 

This  increasing  contrast  between  the  second  and  third 
elements  of  the  tri-une  political  structure,  ends  in  separation 
when,  in  course  of  time,  war  consolidates  large  territories. 
Armed  freemen  scattered  over  a  wide  area  are  deterred  from 
attending  the  periodic  assemblies  by  cost  of  travel,  by  cost  of 
time,  by  danger,  and  also  by  the  experience  that  multitudes 
of  men  unprepared  and  unorganized,  are  helpless  in  presence 
of  an  organized  few,  better  armed  and  mounted,  and  with 
bands  of  retainers.  So  that  passing  thrqugh  a  time  during 
which  only  the  armed  freemen  living  near  the  place  of  meet- 
ing attend,  there  comes  a  time  when  even  these,  not  being 
summoned,  are  considered  as  having  no  right  to  attend;  and 
thus  the  consultative  body  becomes  completely  differentiated. 

Changes  in  the  relative  j)owers  of  the  ruler  and  the  con- 
sultative body  are  determined  by  obvious  causes.  If  the  king 
retains  or  acquires  the  repute  of  supernatural  descent  or 
authority,  and  the  law  of  hereditary  succession  is  so  settled 
as  to  exclude  election,  those  who  might  else  have  formed  a 
consultative  body  having  co-ordinate  power,  become  simply 
appointexl  advis,ers.  But  if  the  king  has  not  the  prestige  of 
sui)posed  sacred  origin  or  commission,  the  consultative  body 
retains  power;  and  if  tlic  king  continues  to  be  elective,  it  is 
liable  to  become  an  oligarchy. 

Of  course  it  is  not  alleged  that  all  consultative  bodies  have 
been  generated  in  the  way  described,  or  are  constituted  in 
like  manner.  Societies  broken  up  by  wars  or  dissolved  by 
revolutions,  may  preserve  so  little  of  their  ]u-imitive  organiza- 
tions that  there  remain  no  classes  of  the  kinds  out  of  which 


414  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

such  consultative  bodies  as  those  described  arise.  Or,  as  we 
see  in  our  own  colonies,  societies  may  have  been  formed  in 
wavs  which  have  not  fostered  classes  of  land-owning  militant 
chiefs,  and  therefore  do  not  furnish  the  elements  out  of  which 
consultative  bodies,  in  their  primitive  shapes,  are  composed. 
Under  conditions  of  these  kinds  the  assemblies  answering  to 
them,  so  far  as  may  be,  in  position  and  function,  arise  under 
the  influence  of  tradition  or  example;  and  in  default  of  men 
of  the  original  kind  are  formed  of  others — generally,  how- 
ever, of  those  wJio  by  position,  seniority,  or  pn^vious  otiicial 
experience,  are  more  eminent  than  those  forming  popular 
assemblies.  It  is  only  to  what  may  be  called  normal  consulta- 
tive bodies  which  grow  up  during  that  compounding  and  re- 
compounding  of  small  societies  into  larger  ones  which  war 
effects,  that  the  foregoing  account  applies;  and  the  senates, 
or  superior  chambers,  which  come  into  existence  under  later 
and  more  complex  conditions,  may  be  considered  as  homolo- 
gous to  them  in  function  and  composition  so  far  only  as  the 
new  conditions  permit. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


KEPKESENTATIVE    BODIES. 


§  496.  Amid  the  varieties  and  complexities  of  political 
organization,  it  lias  proved  not  impossible  to  discern  the  ways 
in  which  simple  political  heads  and  compound  political  heads 
are  evolved;  and  how,  under  certain  conditions,  the  two 
become  united  as  ruler  and  consultative  body.  But  to  see 
how  a  representative  body  arises,  proves  to  be  more  difficult ; 
for  both  process  and  product  are  more  variable.  Less  specific 
results  must  content  us. 

As  hitherto,  so  again,  we  must  go  back  to  the  beginning  to 
take  up  the  clue.  Out  of  that  earliest  stage  of  the  savage 
horde  in  which  there  is  no  supremacy  beyond  that  of  the 
man  whose  strength,  or  courage,  or  cunning,  gives  him  pre- 
dominance, the  first  step  is  to  the  practice  of  election — 
deliberate  choice  of  a  leader  in  war.  About  the  conducting 
of  elections  in  rude  tribes,  travellers  say  little :  probably  the 
methods  used  are  various.  But  we  have  accounts  of  elections 
as  they  were  made  by  European  peoples  during  early  times. 
In  ancient  Scandinavia,  the  chief  of  a  province  chosen  by  the 
assembled  people,  was  thereupon  "  elevated  amidst  the  clash 
of  arms  and  the  shouts  of  the  multitude;  "  and  among  the 
ancient  Germans  he  was  raised  on  a  shield,  as  also  was  the 
popularly-approved  Merovingian  king.  Recalling,  as  this 
ceremony  does,  the  chairing  of  a  newly-elected  member  of 
parliament  up  to  recent  times;  and  reminding  us  that  origi- 
nally an  election  was  by  show  of  hands;  we  are  taught  that 
the  clioice  of  a  representative  was  once  identical  with  tlie 
So  415 


410  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

choice  of  a  chief.  Our  House  of  Conimous  had  its  roots  iu 
local  gatherings  like  those  in  which  unciviUzed  tribes  select 
head  warriors. 

Besides  conscious  selection  there  occurs  among  rude  ])eoples 
selection  by  lot.  The  Samoans,  for  instance,  by  spinning  a 
cocoa-nut,  which,  on  coining  to  rest,  points  to  one  of  the  sur- 
rounding persons,  thereby  single  him  out.  Early  historic 
races  supply  illustrations;  as  the  Hebrews  in  the  affair  of 
Saul  and  Jonathan,  and  as  the  Homeric  Greeks  when  tixing 
on  a  champion  to  tight  with  Hector.  In  both  these  last  cases 
there  was  belief  in  supernatural  interference:  the  lot  was 
supposed  to  be  divinely  determined.  And  probably  at  the 
outset,  choice  by  lot  for  political  purposes  among  the  Athe- 
nians, and  for  military  purposes  among  the  Romans,  as  also 
in  later  times  the  use  of  the  lot  for  choosing  deputies  in  some 
of  the  Italian  republics,  and  in  Spain  (as  in  Leon  during  the 
twelfth  century)  was  influenced  by  a  kindrctl  belief;  though 
doubtless  the  desire  to  give  equal  chances  to  rich  and  ])Oor,  or 
else  to  assign  without  dispute  a  mission  which  was  onerous  or 
dangerous,  entered  into  the  motive  or  was  even  ])redominant. 
Here,  however,  the  fact  to  be  noted  is  tliat  tliis  mode  of 
choice  which  plays  a  j^art  in  representation,  may  also  be 
traced  back  to  the  usages  of  primitive  peoples. 

So,  too,  we  find  foreshadowed  the  process  of  delegation. 
Groups  of  men  who  open  negociations,  or  who  make  their 
submission,  or  who  send  tribute,  habitually  a])point  certain 
of  their  number  to  act  for  them.  The  method  is,  indeed, 
necessitated;  since  a  tribe  cannot  well  perform  such  actions 
bodily.  Whence,  too,  it  appears  that  the  sending  of  repre- 
sentatives is,  at  the  first  stage,  originated  by  causes  like  those 
which  re-originate  it  at  a  later  stage.  For  as  the  will  of  the 
tribe,  I'cadily  displayed  in  its  assemblies  to  its  own  members, 
cannot  be  thus  displayed  to  other  tribes,  but  must,  in  respect 
of  inter-tribal  matters  be  communicated  by  deputy;  so  in  a 
large  nation,  the  people  of  each  locality,  able  to  govern  them- 
selves locally,   but  unable  to  join   the  peoples  of  remote 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  417 

localities  in  deliberations  which  concern  them  all,  have  to 
send  one  or  more  persons  to  express  their  will.  Distance  in 
both  cases  changes  direct  utterance  of  the  popular  voice  into 
indirect  utterance. 

Before  observing  the  conditions  under  which  this  singling 
out  of  individuals  in  one  or  other  way  for  specified  duties, 
comes  to  be  used  in  the  formation  of  a  representative  body, 
Ave  must  exclude  classes  of  cases  not  relevant  to  our  present 
inquiry.  Though  re})rcsentation  as  ordinarily  conceived,  and 
as  here  to  be  dealt  with,  is  associated  with  a  popular  form  of 
government,  yet  the  connexion  between  them  is  not  a  neces- 
sary one.  In  some  places  and  times  representation  has  co- 
existed with  entire  exclusion  of  the  masses  from  power.  In 
Poland,  both  before  and  after  the  so-called  republican  form 
was  assumed,  the  central  diet,  in  addition  to  senators 
nominated  by  the  king,  was  composed  of  nobles  elected  in 
provincial  assemblies  of  nobles:  the  people  at  large  being 
powerless  and  mostly  serfs.  In  Hungary,  too,  up  to  recent 
times,  the  privileged  class  wdiich,  even  after  it  had  been 
greatly  enlarged  reached  only  "  one-twentieth  of  the  adult 
males,"  alone  formed  the  basis  of  representation.  "  A  Hun- 
garian county  before  the  reforms  of  1848  might  be  called  a 
direct  aristocratical  republic :  "  all  members  of  the  noble  class 
having  a  right  to  attend  the  local  assembly  and  vote  in 
appointing  a  representative  noble  to  the  general  diet;  but 
members  of  the  inferior  classes  having  no  shares  in  the 
government. 

Other  representative  bodies  than  those  of  an  exclusively 
aristocratic  kind,  must  be  named  as  not  falling  within  the 
scope  of  this  chapter.  As  Dnruy  remarks — "  Antiquity  was 
not  as  ignorant  as  is  sn})])osed  of  the  representative  sys- 
tem. .  .  .  Each  Koman  province  had  its  general  assem- 
blies. .  .  .  'i'lius  tlie  Lycians  possessed  a  true  legislative 
body  formed  by  the  deputies  of  their  twenty-three  towns." 
''  This  asf^cnibly  had  even  executive  functions."  And  Gaul, 
Spain,  all  the  eastern  pruvim-es,  and  Greece,  had  like  assem- 


418  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

blies.  But,  little  as  is  known  of  them,  the  inference  is 
tolerably  safe  that  these  were  but  distantly  allied  in  genesis 
and  position  to  the  bodies  we  now  distinguish  as  representa- 
tive. Xor  are  we  concerned  with  those  senates  and  councils 
elected  by  different  divisions  of  a  town-population  (such  as 
were  variously  formed  in  the  Italian  republics)  which  served 
simply  as  agents  whose  doings  were  subject  to  the  directly- 
expressed  approval  or  disapproval  of  the  assembled  citizens. 
Here  we  must  limit  ourselves  to  that  kind  of  representative 
body  which  arises  in  communities  occupying  areas  so  large 
that  their  members  are  obliged  to  exercise  by  deputy  such 
powere  as  they  possess;  and,  further,  we  have  to  deal  exclu- 
sively with  cases  in  which  the  assembled  deputies  do  not 
replace  pre-existing  political  agencies  but  cooperate  with 
them. 

It  will  be  well  to  set  out  by  observing,  more  distinctly 
than  we  have  hitherto  done,  what  part  of  the  primitive 
political  structure  it  is  from  which  the  representative  body 
as  thus  conceived,  originates. 

§  497.  Broadly,  this  question  is  tacitly  answered  by  the 
contents  of  preceding  chapters.  For  if,  on  occasions  of  public 
deliberation,  the  primitive  horde  spontaneously  divides  into 
the  inferior  many  and  the  superior  few,  among  whom  some 
one  is  most  influential ;  and  if,  in  the  course  of  that  compound- 
ing and  re-compounding  of  groups  which  war  brings  about, 
the  recognized  war-chief  develops  into  the  king,  while  the 
superior  few  become  the  consultative  body  fonued  of  minor 
military  leaders;  it  follows  that  any  third  co-ordinate  political 
power  must  be  either  the  mass  of  the  infenor  itself,  or  else 
some  agency  acting  on  its  behalf.  Truism  though  this  may 
be  called,  it  is  needful  here  to  set  it  down;  since,  before 
inquiring  under  what  circumstances  the  growth  of  a  repre- 
sentative system  follows  the  growtli  of  pojmlar  power,  we 
have  to  recognize  the  relation  between  tlie  two. 

The  undistinguished  mass,  retaining  a  latent  supremacy  in 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  419 

simple  societies  not  3'et  politically  organized,  though  it  is 
brought  under  restraint  as  fast  as  war  establishes  obedience, 
and  conquests  produce  class-differentiations,  tends,  when 
occasion  permits,  to  re-assert  itself.  The  sentiments  and 
beliefs,  organized  and  transmitted,  which,  during  certain 
stages  of  social  evolution,  lead  the  many  to  submit  to  the 
few,  come,  under  some  circumstances,  to  be  traversed  by 
other  sentiments  and  beliefs.  Passing  references  have  been 
in  several  places  made  to  these.  Here  we  must  consider  them 
seriatim  and  more  at  length. 

One  factor  in  the  development  of  the  patriarchal  group 
during  the  pastoral  stage,  was  shown  to  be  the  fostering  of 
subordination  to  its  head  by  war;  since,  continually,  there 
survived  the  groups  in  which  subordination  was  greatest. 
But  if  so,  the  implication  is  that,  conversely,  cessation  of 
war  tends  to  diminish  subordination.  Members  of  the  com- 
pound family,  originally  living  together  and  fighting  to- 
gether, become  less  strongly  bound  in  proportion  as  they  have 
less  frequently  to  cooperate  for  joint  defence  under  their 
head.  Hence,  the  more  peaceful  the  state  the  more  inde- 
pendent become  the  multiplying  divisions  forming  the  gens, 
the  phratry,  and  the  tribe.  With  progTess  of  industrial  life 
arises  greater  freedom  of  action — especially  among  the  dis- 
tantly-related members  of  the  group. 

So  must  it  be,  too,  in  a  feudally-govcnied  assemblage. 
While  standing  quarrels  with  neighbours  are  ever  leading  to 
local  battles — while  bodies  of  men-at-arms  are  kept  ready, 
and  vassals  are  from  time  to  time  summoned  to  fight — 
while,  as  a  concomitant  of  military  service,  acts  of  homage 
are  insisted  upon;  there  is  maintained  a  regimental  sub- 
jection running  through  the  group.  But  as  fast  as  aggres- 
sions and  counter-aggressions  become  less  frequent,  the 
carrying  of  arms  becomes  less  needful;  there  is  less  occa- 
sion for  periodic  expressions  of  fealty;  and  there  is  an 
increase  of  daily  actions  performed  without  direction  of  a 
superior,  whence  a  fostering  of  individuality  of  character. 


420  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

These  changes  are  furthered  by  the  decline  of  superstitious 
beliefs  concerning  the  natures  of  head  men,  general  and  local. 
As  before  shown,  the  ascription  of  superhuman  origin,  or 
supernatural  power,  to  the  king,  greatly  strengthens  his 
hands;  and  where  the  chiefs  of  component  groups  have  a 
sacredness  due  to  nearness  in  blood  to  the  semi-divine  an- 
cestor worshipped  by  all,  or  are  members  of  an  invading, 
god-descended  race,  their  authority  over  dependents  is  largely 
enforced.  By  ini])lieation  then,  whatever  undermines  an- 
cestor-worship, and  the  system  of  beliefs  accompanying  it, 
favours  the  growth  of  popular  power.  Doubtless  the  spread 
of  Christianity  over  Europe,  by  diminishing  the  prestige  of 
governors,  major  and  minor,  prepared  the  way  for  greater 
independence  of  the  governed. 

These  causes  have  relatively  small  effects  where  the  people 
are  scattered.  In  rural  districts  the  authority  of  political 
superiors  is  weakened  with  comparative  slowness.  Even 
after  peace  has  become  habitual,  and  local  heads  have  lost 
their  semi-sacred  chfyacters,  there  cling  to  them  awe-inspiring 
traditions:  they  are  not  of  ordinary  flesh  and  blood.  AVcalth 
which,  through  long  ages,  distinguishes  the  nobleman  exclu- 
sively, gives  him  both  actual  power  and  the  power  arising 
from  display.  Fixed  literally  or  practically,  as  the  several 
grades  of  liis  inferiors  aic  (biiiiig  days  when  locomotion  is 
difficult,  he  long  remains  for  them  the  solitary  sample  of  a 
great  man.  Others  are  only  known  by  hearsay;  he  is  known 
by  experience.  Insjjection  is  easily  iiiniiihiiiicd  by  him  over 
dependent  and  sub-dependent  people;  and  the  disrespectful 
or  rebellious,  if  they  cannot  be  punished  overtly,  can  be 
deprived  of  occupation,  or  otherwise  so  hindered  in  their 
lives  that  they  must  submit  or  migrate.  DoAvn  to  our  own 
day,  the  behaviour  of  peasants  and  farmers  to  the  squire,  is 
suggestive  of  the  strong  restraints  which  kept  rural  popula- 
tions in  semi-servile  states  after  primitive  contnilliiig  in- 
fluences had  died  away. 

Converse  effects  may  be  expected  undir  convca'se  condi- 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  421 

tions;  namely,  where  large  numbers  become  closely  aggre- 
gated. Even  if  such  large  numbers  are  fonned  of  groups 
severally  subordinate  to  heads  of  clans,  or  to  feudal  lords, 
sundry  influences  combine  to  diminish  subordination.  When 
there  are  present  in  the  same  place  many  superior's  to  whom 
respectively  their  dependents  owe  obedience,  these  superiors 
tend  to  dwarf  one  another.  The  power  of  no  one  is  so  im- 
posing if  there  are  daily  seen  others  who  make  like  displays. 
Further,  when  groups  of  dependents  are  mingled,  supervision 
cannot  be  so  well  maintained  by  their  heads.  And  this  which 
hinders  the  exercise  of  control,  facilitates  combination  among 
those  to  be  controlled :  conspiracy  is  made  easier  and  detec- 
tion of  it  more  difiicult.  Again,  jealous  of  one  another,  as 
these  heads  of  clustered  groups  are  likely  in  such  circum- 
stances to  be,  they  are  prompted  severally  to  strengthen 
themselves;  and  to  this  end,  competing  for  jDopularity,  are 
tempted  to  relax  the  restraints  over  their  inferiors  and  to 
give  protection  to  inferiors  ill-used  by  other  heads.  Still 
more  are  their  powers  undermined  when  the  assemblage 
includes  many  aliens.  As  before  implied,  this  above  all 
causes  favours  the  growth  of  popular  power.  In  proportion 
as  immigrants,  detached  from  the  gentile  or  feudal  divisions 
they  severally  belong  to,  become  numerous,  they  weaken  the 
structures  of  the  divisions  among  which  they  live.  Such 
organization  as  these  strangers  fall  into  is  certain  to  be  a 
looser  one;  and  their  influence  acts  as  a  dissolvent  to  the 
surrounding  organizations. 

And  here  we  are  brought  back  to  the  truth  which  cannot 
be  too  much  insisted  upon,  that  growth  of  popular  power  is 
in  all  ways  associated  with  trading  activities.  For  only  by 
trading  activities  can  many  people  be  brought  to  live  in  close 
contact.  Physical  necessities  maintain  the  wide  dispersion 
of  a  rural  population;  while  physical  necessities  impel  the 
gathering  together  of  those  who  are  commercially  occupied. 
Evidence  from  various  countries  and  times  shows  that  periodic 
gatherings  for  religious  rites,  or  other  public  purposes,  furnish 


422  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

opportunities  for  buying  and  selling-,  whicli  are  habitually 
utilized;  and  this  connexion  between  the  assembling  of  many 
people  and  the  exchanging  of  commodities,  which  hrst  shows 
itself  at  intervals,  becomes  a  permanent  connexion  where 
many  people  become  permanently  assembled — where  a  town 
grows  up  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  temple,  or  around  a 
stronghold,  or  in  a  place  favoured  by  local  circumstances  for 
some  manufacture. 

Industrial  development  further  aids  popular  emancipation 
by  generating  an  order  of  men  whose  power,  derived  from 
their  wealth,  competes  with,  and  begins  in  some  cases  to 
exceed,  the  power  of  those  who  previously  were  alone  wealthy 
— the  men  of  rank.  While  this  initiates  a  conflict  which 
diminishes  the  influence  previonsly  exercised  by  patriarchal 
or  feudal  heads  only,  it  also  initiates  a  milder  form  of  sub- 
ordination. Kising,  as  the  rich  trader  habitually  does  in  early 
times,  from  the  non-privileged  class,  the  relation  between 
him  and  those  under  him  is  one  from  which  there  is  excluded 
the  idea  of  personal  subjection.  In  proportion  as  the  indus- 
trial activities  grow  predominant,  they  make  familiar  a  con- 
nexion between  employer  and  employed  which  differs  from 
the  relation  between  master  and  slave,  or  lord  and  vassal,  by 
not  including  allegiance.  Under  earlier  conditions  there  does 
not  exist  the  idea  of  detached  individual  life — life  which 
neither  receives  protection  from  a  clan-head  or  feudal  supe- 
rior, nor  is  carried  on  in  obedience  to  him.  But  in  town 
populations,  made  up  largely  of  refugees,  who  either  become 
small  traders  or  are  employed  by  gi'eat  ones,  the  experience 
of  a  relatively-independent  life  becomes  common,  and  the 
conception  of  it  clear. 

And  the  form  of  cooperation  distinctive  of  the  industrial 
state  thus  arising,  fosters  the  feelings  and  thoughts  appro- 
Jiriate  to  popular  power.  In  daily  usage  there  is  a  balancing 
of  claims;  and  the  idea  of  ((luify  is,  generation  after  genera- 
tion, made  more  definite.  The  relations  iK'tween  eniployer 
and  employed,  and  Ix'tween  buyer  and  seller,  can  be  main- 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  423 

tained  only  on  condition  that  the  obligations  on  either  side 
are  fulfilled.  Where  they  are  not  fulfilled  the  relation  lapses, 
and  leaves  outstanding  those  relations  in  which  they  are  ful- 
filled. Commercial  success  and  growth  have  thus,  as  their 
inevitable  concomitants,  the  maintenance  of  the  respective 
rights  of  those  concerned,  and  a  strengthening  consciousness 
of  them. 

In  brief,  then,  dissolving  in  various  ways  the  old  relation 
of  status,  and  substituting  the  new  relation  of  contract  (to 
use  Sir  Henry  Maine's  antithesis),  progressing  industrialism 
brings  together  masses  of  people  who  by  their  circumstances 
are  enabled,  and  by  their  discipline  prompted,  to  modify  the 
political  organization  which  militancy  has  bequeathed. 

§  498.  It  is  common  to  speak  of  free  forms  of  government 
as  having  been  initiated  by  happy  accidents.  Antagonisms 
between  different  powers  in  the  State,  or  different  factions, 
have  caused  one  or  other  of  them  to  bid  for  popular  support, 
with  the  result  of  increasing  popular  power.  The  king's 
jealousy  of  the  aristocracy  has  induced  him  to  enlist  the 
sympathies  of  the  people  (sometimes  serfs  but  more  fre- 
quently citizens)  and  therefore  to  favour  them;  or, otherwise, 
the  people  have  profited  by  alliance  with  the  aristocracy  in 
resisting  royal  tyrannies  and  exactions.  Doubtless,  the  facts 
admit  of  being  thus  presented.  AVith  conflict  there  habitu- 
ally goes  the  desire  for  allies;  and  throughout  medineval  Eu- 
rope while  the  struggles  between  monarchs  and  barons  were 
chronic,  the  supi)ort  of  the  towns  was  important.  Germany, 
France,  Spain,  Hungary,  furnish  illustrations. 

But  it  is  an  error  to  regard  occurrences  of  these  kinds  as 
causes  of  po])ular  power.  They  are  to  be  regarded  rather  as 
the  conditions  under  wbicli  the  causes  take  effect.  These 
incidental  weakenings  of  ])re-cxisting  institutions,  do  ln>t 
fnrnisli  opportunities  for  the  action  of  the  pent-up  force  which 
is  ready  to  work  political  changes.  Three  factors  in  this 
force  may  be  distinguished : — the  relative  mass  of  those  com- 


424  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

posing  the  industrial  ('(Muinuiiitics  as  distinguished  from 
those  embodied  in  the  older  forms  of  organization;  the  ])er- 
manent  sentiments  and  ideas  produced  in  them  by  their  mode 
of  life;  and  tlie  temporary  emotions  roused  by  special  acts 
of  oppression  or  by  distress.  Let  us  observe  the  cooperation 
of  these. 

Two  instances,  occurring  first  in  order  of  time,  are  fur- 
nished by  the  ^Vthenian  democracy.  The  condition  which 
preceded  the  Solonian  legislation,  was  one  of  violent  dis- 
sension among  political  factions;  and  there  was  also  "  a 
general  mutiny  of  the  poorer  population  against  the  rich,  re- 
sulting from  misery  combined  with  oppression."  The  more 
extensive  diifusion  of  power  effected  by  the  revolution  which 
Kleisthenes  brought  about,  occurred  under  kindred  circum- 
stances. The  relatively-detached  population  of  immigrant 
traders,  had  so  greatly  increased  between  the  time  of  Solon 
and  that  of  Kleisthenes,  that  the  four  original  tribes  forming 
the  population  of  Attica  had  to  be  replaced  by  ten.  And 
then  this  augmented  mass,  largely  composed  of  men  not  un- 
der clan-discipline,  and  therefore  less  easily  restrained  by 
the  ruling  classes,  forcpd  itself  into  predominance  at  a  time 
when  the  ruling  classes  were  divided.  Though  it  is  said  that 
Kleisthenes  "  being  vanquished  in  a  party  contest  with  his 
rival,  took  the  people  into  partnership  " — though  the  change 
is  represented  as  being  one  thus  personally  initiated;  yet  in 
the  absence  of  that  voluminous  popular  will  which  had  long- 
been  growing,  the  political  re-organization  could  not  have 
been  made,  or,  if  made,  could  not  have  been  maintained. 
The  remark  wdiich  Grote  quotes  from  Aristotle,  "  that  sedi- 
tions are  generated  by  great  causes  but  out  of  small  incidents," 
if  altered  slightly  by  WTiting  "  political  changes  "  instead  of 
"  seditions,"  fully  applies.  For  clearly,  once  having  been 
enabled  to  assert  itself,  this  popular  powci-  coidd  imt  \n>  forth- 
with excluded.  Kleisthenes  could  not  under  such  circum- 
stances have  imposed  on  so  large  a  nniss  of  men  arrangements 
at  variance  with  their  wishes.  Practically,  therefore,  it  was  the 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  425 

growing  industrial  power  which  then  produced,  and  there- 
after preserved,  the  democratic  organization.  Turning 
to  Italy,  we  first  note  that  the  establishment  of  the  small 
republics,  refen-ed  to  in  a  preceding  chapter  as  having  been 
simultaneous  with  the  decay  of  imperial  power,  may  here  be. 
again  referred  to  more  specifically  as  having  been  simul- 
taneous with  that  conflict  of  authorities  which  caused  this 
decay.  Says  Sismondi,  ''  the  war  of  investitures  gave  wing 
to  this  universal  spirit  of  liberty  and  patriotism  in  all  the  mu- 
nicipalities of  Lombardy,  of  Piedmont,  A^enetia,  Romagna, 
and  Tuscany."  In  other  words,  while  the  struggle  between 
Emperor  and  Pope  absorbed  the  strength  of  both,  it  became 
possible  for  the  people  to  assert  themselves.  And  at  a  later 
time,  Florence  furnislied  an  instance  simihir  in  nature  if 
somewhat  different  in  form. 

"  At  the  moment  when  '  Florence  expelled  the  Medici,  that  republic 
was  bandied  between  three  different  parties.'  Savonarola  took  advan- 
tage of  this  state  of  affairs  to  urge  that  the  people  should  reserve  their 
power  to  themselves,  and  exercise  it  by  a  council.  His  proposition 
was  agreed  to,  and  this  'council  was  declared  sovereign.' " 
In  the  case  of  Spain,  again,  popular  power  increased  during 
the  troubles  accompanying  the  minority  of  Fernando  IV.; 
and  of  the  periodic  assemblies  subsequently  formed  by  depu- 
ties from  certain  towns  (which  met  without  authority  of  the 
Government)  we  read  that — 

"  The  desire  of  the  Government  to  frustrate  the  aspiring  schemes  of 
the  Infantes  de  la  Cerda,  and  their  numerous  adherents,  made  the 
attachment  of  these  assemblies  indispensable.  The  disputes  during 
the  minority  of  Alfonso  XI.  more  than  ever  favoured  the  pretensions 
of  the  third  estate.  Each  of  the  candidates  for  the  regency  paid  as- 
siduous court  to  the  municipal  authorities,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  ■ 
the  necessary  suffrages." 

And  how  all  this  was  consequent  on  industrial  development, 
appears  in  the  facts  that  many,  if  not  most,  of  these  associated 
towns,  had  arisen  during  a  preceding  age  by  the  re-coloniza- 
tion of  regions  desolated  during  the  prolonged  contests  of 
Moors  and  Christians;  and  that  these  "  poblaciones,"  or  com- 
munities of  colonists,  which,  scattered  over  these  vast  tracts 


426  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

gi'ew  into  prosperous  towns,  liad  been  formed  of  serfs  and 
artizans  to  whom  various  privileges,  including  those  of  self- 
government,  were  given  by  royal  charter.  With 
which  examples  must  be  joined  the  example  familiar  to  all. 
.  For  in  England  it  was  during  the  struggle  between  king  and 
barons,  when  the  factions  were  nearly  balanced,  and  when 
the  town-popnlations  had  been  by  trade  so  far  increased  that 
their  aid  was  important,  that  they  came  to  play  a  noticeable 
part,  first  as  allies  in  war  and  afterwards  as  sharers  in  govern- 
ment. It  cannot  be  doubted  that  when  summoning  to  the 
parliament  of  1265,  not  only  knights  of  the  shire  but  also 
deputies  from  cities  and  boroughs,  Simon  of  Montfort  was 
prompted  by  the  desire  to  strengthen  himself  against  the 
royal  party  supported  by  the  Pope.  And  whether  he  sought 
thus  to  increase  his  adherents,  or  to  obtain  larger  pecuniary 
means,  or  both,  the  implication  equally  is  that  the  urban 
populations  had  become  a  relatively-important  part  of  the 
nation.  This  interjictation  harmonizes  with  subse(]uent 
events.  For  though  the  representation  of  towns  afterwards 
lapsed,  yet  it  shortly  revived,  and  in  1295  became  established. 
As  Hume  remarks,  such  an  institution  could  not  "  have  at- 
tained to  so  vigorous  a  growth  and  have  flourished  in  the 
midst  of  such  tempests  and  convulsions,"  unless  it  had  been 
one,  "  for  which  the  general  state  of  things  had  already  pre- 
pared the  nation :  "  the  truth  here  to  be  added  being  that  this 
"  general  state  of  things  "was  the  augmented  mass,  and  hence 
augmented  influence,  of  the  free  industrial  communities. 

Confirmation  is  supplied  by  cases  showing  that  power 
gained  by  the  people  during  times  when  the  regal  and  aris- 
tocratic powers  are  diminished  by  dissension,  is  lost  again  if, 
while  the  old  organization  recovers  its  stability  and  activity, 
industrial  growth  does  not  make  proportionate  progress. 
Spain,  or  more  strictly  Castile,  yields  an  example.  Such 
share  in  government  as  was  ac(]uirod  by  those  industrial  com- 
munities which  grew  u])  during  the  colonization  of  the  waste 
lands,  became,  in   tlic  space  of  a  few  reigns  characterized 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  427 

by  successful  wars  and  resulting  consolidations,  scarcely  more 
than  nominal. 

§  499.  It  is  instructive  to  note  how  that  primary  incentive 
to  cooperation  which  initiates  social  union  at  large,  continues 
afterwards  to  initiate  special  unions  within  the  general  union. 
For  just  as  external  militancy  sets  up  and  carries  on  the  or- 
ganization of  the  whole,  so  does  internal  militancy  set  up  and 
carry  on  the  organization  of  the  parts;  even  when  those 
jtarts,  industrial  in  their  activities,  are  intrinsically  non- 
militant.  On  looking  into  their  histories  we  find  that  the 
increasing  clusters  of  people  who,  forming  towns,  lead  lives 
essentially  distinguished  by  continuous  exchange  of  services 
under  agTeement,  develop  their  governmental  structures  dur- 
ing their  chronic  antagonisms  with  the  surrounding  militant 
clusters. 

We  see,  first,  that  these  settlements  of  traders,  growing 
important  and  obtaining  royal  charters,  were  by  doing  this 
placed  in  quasi-militant  positions — became  in  modified  ways 
holders  of  fiefs  from  their  king,  and  had  the  associated  re- 
sponsibilities. Habitually  they  paid  dues  of  sundry  kinds 
equivalent  in  general  nature  to  those  paid  by  feudal  tenants ; 
and,  like  them,  they  were  liable  to  military  ser^dce.  In 
Spanish  chartered  towns  "  this  was  absolutely  due  from  every 
inhabitant;  "  and  "  every  man  of  a  certain  property  was 
bound  to  serve  on  horseback  or  pay  a  fixed  sum."  In  France 
"  in  the  charters  of  incorporation  which  towns  received,  the 
number  of  troops  required  was  usually  expressed."  And  in 
the  chartered  royal  burghs  of  Scotland  "  every  burgess  was 
a  direct  vassal  of  the  crown." 

Next  observe  that  industrial  towns  (usually  formed  by 
coalescence  of  pre-existing  rural  divisions  rendered  populous 
because  local  circumstances  favoured  some  form  of  trade,  and 
])r(^sently  becoming  places  of  hiding  for  fugitives,  and  of  se- 
curity for  escaped  serfs)  began  to  stand  toward  the  small  feu- 
dally-governed groups  around  them,  in  relations  like  those 


428  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

in  which  these  stood  to  one  another:  eonipctino-  witli  them 
for  adherents,  and  often  fortifying  themselves.  Sometimes, 
too,  as  in  France  in  the  13th  century,  towns  became  suze- 
rains, while  communes  had  the  right  of  war  in  numerous 
cases;  and  in  England  in  early  days  th(>  maritime  towns  car- 
ried on  wars  with  one  another. 

Again  there  is  the  fact  that  these  cities  and  boroughs, 
which  by  royal  charter  or  otherwise  had  acquired  powers  of 
administering  their  own  affairs,  habitually  formed  within 
themselves  combinations  for  protective  purposes.  In  Eng- 
land, in  Spain,  in  France,  in  Germany  (sometimes  with  as- 
sent of  the  king,  sometimes  notwithstanding  his  relnctance 
as  in  England,  sometimes  in  defiance  of  him,  as  in  ancient 
Holland)  there  rose  up  gilds,  which,  having  their  roots  in 
the  natural  unions  among  related  persons,  presently  gave 
origin  to  frith-gilds  and  merchant-gilds;  and  these,  defensive 
in  their  relations  to  one  another,  formed  the  bases  of  that 
municipal  organization  which  carried  on  the  general  defence 
against  aggressing  nobles. 

Once  more,  in  countries  where  the  antagonisms  between 
these  industrial  communities  and  the  surrounding  militant 
communities  were  violent  and  chronic,  the  industrial  com- 
munities combined  to  defend  themselves.  In  Spain  the 
"  poblaciones,*'  which  when  they  flourished  and  grew  into 
large  places  were  invaded  and  robbed  by  adjacent  feudal 
lords,  formed  leagues  for  inutual  protection;  and  at  a  later 
date  there  arose,  under  like  needs,  more  extensive  confedera- 
tions of  cities  and  towns,  which,  under  severe  penalties  for 
non-fulfilment  of  the  obligations,  bound  themselves  to  aid 
one  another  in  resisting  aggressions,  whether  by  king  or 
nobles.  In  Germany,  too,  we  have  the  ju-rpetual  alliance 
entered  into  by  sixty  t<jwns  on  the  Rhine  in  12.5."),  when, 
during  the  troubles  that  fnllowed  the  deposition  of  the  Em- 
peror Frederic  IT.,  the  tyianny  of  the  nobles  had  become 
insu})portable.  And  we  have  the  kindred  unions  formed 
under  like  incentives  in  Holland  and  in  France.     So  that, 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  429 

both  in  small  and  in  large  ways,  the  industrial  gTOups  here 
and  there  growing  np  within  a  nation,  are,  in  many  cases, 
forced  by  local  antagonisms  partially  to  assume  activities 
and  structures  like  those  whicli  the  nation  as  a  whole  is  forced 
to  assume  in  its  antagonisms  with  nations  around. 

Here  the  implication  chiefly  concerning  us  is  that  if  indus- 
trialism is  thus  checked  by  a  return  to  militancy,  the  growth 
of  popular  power  is  arrested.  Especially  where,  as  happened 
in  the  Italian  republics,  defensive  war  passes  into  offensive 
war,  and  there  grows  up  an  ambition  to  conquer  other  terri- 
tories and  towns,  the  free  form  of  government  proper  to  in- 
dustrial life,  becomes  qualified  by,  if  it  does  not  revert  to, 
the  coercive  form  accompanying  militant  life.  Or  where,  as 
happened  in  Spain,  the  feuds  between  towns  and  nobles  con- 
tinue through  long  periods,  the  rise  of  free  institutions  is 
arrested;  since,  under  such  conditions,  there  can  be  neither 
that  commercial  prosperity  which  produces  large  urban  popu- 
lations, nor  a  cultivation  of  the  associated  mental  nature. 
Whence  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  growth  of  popular  power 
accompanying  industrial  growth  in  England,  was  largely  due 
to  the  comparatively  small  amount  of  this  warfare  between 
tlie  industrial  groups  and  the  feudal  groups  around  them. 
The  effects  of  the  trading  life  were  less  interfered  with  ;  and 
tlie  local  governing  centres,  urban  and  rural;  were  not  i)re- 
vented  from  uniting  to  restrain  the  general  centre. 

§  500.  And  now  let  us  consider  more  specifically  how  the 
governmental  infiuence  of  the  people  is  acquired.  By  the 
histories  of  organizations  of  whatever  kind,  we  are  shown 
that  the  purjiose  originally  subserved  by  some  arrangement  is 
not  always  the  ])ur]iose  eventually  subserved.  It  is  so  here. 
Assent  to  obligations  rather  than  assertion  of  rights  has  ordi- 
narily initiated  the  increase  of  popular  power.  Even  tlie 
transformation  effected  by  the  revolution  of  Ivleisthenes  at 
Athens,  took  the  form  of  a  re-distribution  of  tribes  and  denies 
for  purjioses  of  taxation  and  military  service.     In  Rome,  too, 


430  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

that  enlargement  of  the  oligarcliy  which  oecurrecl  under 
Servius  Tiillius,  had  for  its  ostensible  motive  the  imposing 
on  plebeians  of  obligations  which  up  to  that  time  had  been 
borne  exclusively  by  patricians.  But  we  shall  best  under- 
stand this  primitive  relation  between  dut}'  and  power,  in 
which  the  duty  is  original  and  the  power  derived,  by  going 
back  once  more  to  the  beginning. 

For  when  we  remember  that  the  primitive  political  assem- 
bly is  essentially  a  war-council,  formed  of  leaders  who  debate 
in  presence  of  their  followers;  and  when  we  remember  that 
in  early  stages  all  free  adult  males,  being  warriors,  are  called 
on  to  join  in  defensive  or  offensive  actions;  we  see  that, 
originally,  the  attendance  of  the  armed  freemen  is  in  pursu- 
ance of  the  military  service  to  which  they  are  bound,  and 
that  such  power  as,  when  thus  assembled,  they  exercise,  is  in- 
cidental. Later  stages  yield  clear  proofs  that  this  is  the  nor- 
mal order;  for  it  recurs  where,  after  a  political  dissolution, 
political  organization  begins  de  novo.  Instance  the  Italian 
cities,  in  which,  as  we  have  seen,  the  original  ^'  parliaments," 
summoned  for  defence  by  the  tocsin,  included  all  the  men 
capable  of  bearing  arms:  the  obligation  to  fight  coming  first, 
and  the  right  to  vote  coming  second.  And,  naturally,  this 
duty  of  attendance  survives  when  the  primitive  assemblage 
assumes  other  functions  than  those  of  a  militant  kind ;  as  wit- 
ness the  before-named  fact  that  among  the  Scandinavians  it 
was  "  disreputable  for  freemen  not  to  attend  "  the  annual  as- 
sembly; and  the  further  facts  that  in  France  the  obligation 
to  be  present  at  the  hundred-court  in  the  ^reroviiigian  period, 
rested  upon  all  full  freemen;  that  in  the  Carol! ngian  ju'riod 
"  non-attendance  is  punished  by  fines  ";  that  in  England  the 
lower  freemen,  as  well  as  others,  were  ''  bound  to  attend  the 
shire-moot  and  hundred-moot  "  under  penalty  of  "  large  fines 
for  neglect  of  duty;  "  and  that  in  the  thirteenth  century  in 
Holland,  when  the  burghers  were  assembled  for  puldic  pur- 
poses, ''  anyone  ringing  the  town  bell,  except  by  general  con- 
sent, and  anyone  not  appearing  when  it  tolls,  are  liable  to  a  fine." 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  431 

After  recognizing  this  primitive  relation  between  popular 
duty  and  popular  power,  we  shall  more  clearly  understand 
the  relation  as  it  re-appears  when  popular  power  begins  to 
revive  along  with  the  growth  of  industrialism.  For  here, 
again,  the  fact  meets  us  that  the  obligation  is  primary  and  the 
power  secondary.  It  is  mainly  as  furnishing  aid  to  the  ruler, 
generally  for  war  purposes,  that  the  deputies  from  towns  be- 
gin to  share  in  public  affairs.  There  recurs  under  a  com- 
plex form,  that  which  at  an  early  stage  we  see  in  a  simple 
form.     Let  us  paitse  a  moment  to  observe  the  transition. 

As  was  shown  when  treating  of  Ceremonial  Institutions, 
the  revenues  of  rulers  are  derived,  at  first  wholly  and  after- 
wards partially,  from  presents.  The  occasions  on  which  as- 
semblies are  called  together  to  discuss  public  affairs  (mainly 
military  operations  for  which  supplies  are  needed)  naturally 
become  the  occasions  on  which  the  expected  gifts  are  offered 
and  received.  When  by  successful  wars  the  militant  king 
consolidates  small  societies  into  a  large  one — when  there 
comes  an  "'  increase  of  royal  power  in  intension  as  the  king- 
dom increases  in  extension  "  (to  quote  the  luminous  expres- 
sion of  Prof.  Stubbs) ;  and  when,  as  a  consequence,  the  quasi- 
voluntary  gifts  become  more  and  more  compulsory,  though 
still  retaining  such  names  as  donum  and  auxiJium;  it  gener- 
ally happens  that  those  exactions,  passing  a  bearable  limit, 
lead  to  resistance :  at  first  passive  and  in  extreme  cases  active. 
If  by  consequent  disturbances  the  royal  power  is  much  weak- 
ened, the  restoration  of  order,  if  it  takes  place,  is  likely  to  take 
place  on  the  understanding  tliat,  with  such  modifications  as 
may  be  needful,  the  primitive  system  of  voluntary  gifts  shall 
be  re-established.  Thus,  when  in  Spain  the  death  of  Sanclio 
I.  was  followed  by  political  dissensions,  the  deputies  from 
thirty-two  places,  who  assembled  at  Valladolid,  decided  that 
demands  made  by  the  king  beyond  the  customary  dues  should 
])e  answered  by  death  of  the  messenger;  and  the  need  for  gain- 
ing the  adliesion  of  the  towns  during  the  conflict  with  a  pre- 
tender, led  to  an  n])]i;n'cnt  toh-ration  of  this  attitude.      Sinn'- 


432  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

larly  in  tlio  next  century,  during  disputes  as  to  the  regency 
\vliile  Alplionso  XI.  was  a  minor,  the  cortes  at  Burgos  de- 
manded that  the  towns  shouhl  "  contribute  nothing  beyond 
what  was  prescribed  in  "  their  charters.  Kindred  causes 
wrought  kindred  results  in  France;  as  when,  by  an  insur- 
rectionary league,  Louis  Ilutin  was  obliged  to  grant  charters 
to  the  nobles  and  burgesses  of  Picardy  and  of  Normandy, 
renouncing  the  right  of  imposing  imdue  exactions;  and  as 
when,  on  sundry  occasions,  the  States-general  were  assembled 
for  the  purpose  of  reconciling  the  nation  to  imposts  levied 
to  carry  on  wars.  Nor  must  its  familiarity  cause  us  to  omit 
the  instance  furnished  by  our  own  history,  when,  after  pre- 
liminary stei)s  towards  that  end  at  St.  Alban's  and  St.  Ed- 
mund's, nobles  and  })eople  at  Runnymede  effectually  re- 
strained the  king  from  various  tyrannies,  and,  among  others, 
from  that  of  im})using  taxes,  without  the  consent  of  his  sub- 
jects. 

And  now  what  followed  from  arrangements  which,  with 
modifications  due  to  local  conditions,  were  arrived  at  in  sev- 
eral countries  under  similar  circumstances?  Evidently 
when  the  king,  hindered  from  enforcing  unauthorized  de- 
mands, had  to  obtain  supplies  by  asking  his  subjects,  or  the 
more  powerful  of  them,  his  motive  for  summoning  them,  or 
their  representatives,  became  primarily  that  of  getting  these 
supplies.  The  predominance  of  this  motive  for  calling  to- 
gether national  assemblies,  may  be  inferred  from  its  pre- 
dominance prcA'iously  shown  in  connexion  with  local  assem- 
blies; as  instance  a  writ  of  Henry  T.  concerning  shire-moots, 
in  which,  professing  to  restore  ancient  custom,  he  says — "  I 
will  cause  those  courts  to  be  summoned  wIkmi  T  will  for  my 
own  sovereign  necessity,  at  my  pleasure."  To  vote  money 
is  therefore  the  primary  jiurjiose  for  which  chief  men  and 
representatives  are  assembled. 

§  501.  From  theabilitytoprescrilicconditinnsunderwhich 
money  will  be  voted,  grows  the  ability,  and  tliudly  the  right, 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  433 

to  join  in  legislation.  This  connexion  is  vaguely  typified  in 
early  stages  of  social  evolution.  Making  gifts  and  getting 
redress  go  together  from  the  beginning.  As  was  said  of 
Gulab  Singh,  wlien  treating  of  presents — "  even  in  a  crowd 
one  could  catch  his  eye  by  holding  up  a  rupee  and  crying  out, 
'  Maharajah,  a  petition.'  lie  would  pounce  down  like  a 
hawk  on  the  money,  and,  having  appropriated  it,  would  pa- 
tiently hear  out  the  petitioner."*  I  have  in  the  same  place 
given  further  examj)les  of  this  relation  between  yielding  sup- 
port to  the  governing  agency,  and  demanding  protection 
from  it;  and  the  examples  there  given  may  be  enforced  by 
such  others  as  that,  among  ourselves  in  early  days,  "  the 
king's  court  itself,  though  the  supreme  judicature  of  the  king- 
dom, was  open  to  none  that  brought  not  presents  to  the 
king,"  and  that,  as  shown  by  the  exchequer  rolls,  every  rem- 
edy for  a  grievance  or  security  against  aggression  had  to  be 
paid  for  by  a  bribe:  a  state  of  things  which,  as  Hume  re- 
marks, was  paralleled  on  the  Continent. 

Such  being  the  original  connexion  between  support  of  the 
political  head  and  protection  by  the  political  head,  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  actions  of  parliamentary  bodies,  when  they 
arise,  becomes  clear.  Just  as  in  rude  assemblies  of  king,  mili- 
tary chiefs,  and  armed  freemen,  preserving  in  large  measure 
the  primitive  form,  as  those  in  France  during  the]\Ierovingian 
period,  the  presentation  of  gifts  went  along  with  the  transac- 
tion of  public  l)usin(^ss,  judicial  as  well  as  military — just  as 
in  our  own  ancient  shire-moot,  local  government,  including 
the  administration  of  justice,  was  accompanied  by  the 
furnishing  of  ships  and  the  payment  of  "  a  composition  for 
the  feorm-fultum,  or  sustentation  of  the  king;  "  so  when, 
after  successful  resistance  to  excess  of  royal  power,  there  came 

*  Reference  to  the  passage  since  made  shows  not  only  this  initial  relation, 
but  still  more  instructively  shows  that  at  the  very  bej^inninof  there  arises  the 
question  whether  protection  shal  1  come  first  and  payment  afterwards,  or  pay- 
ment first  and  protection  afterwards.  For  the  passaire  continues :  "  Once  a 
man  after  this  fashion  making  a  complaint,  when  the  ^faharajah  was  taking 
the  nipee,  closed  his  hand  on  it,  and  said, '  No,  first  hear  what  I  have  to  say.' " 


434  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

assemblies  of  nobles  and  representatives  summoned  by  tlie 
king,  there  re-qppeared,  on  a  higher  platform,  these  simulta- 
neous demands  for  money  on  the  one  side  and  for  justice  on 
the  other.  We  may  assume  it  as  certain  that  within  an  aver- 
age humanity,  the  conflicting  egoisms  of  those  concerned  will 
be  the  main  factoi-s;  and  that  on  each  side  the  aim  will  be  to 
^ve  as  little,  and  get  as  much,  as  circumstances  allow. 
France,  Spaiu,  and  England,  yield  examples  which  uuite  in 
showing  this. 

When  Charles  V.  of  France,  in  1357,  dismissing  the  States- 
general  for  alleged  encroachments  on  his  rights,  raised  money 
by  further  debasing  the  coinage,  and  caused  a  sedition  in 
Paris  which  endangered  his  life,  there  was,  three  months  later, 
a  re-convocation  of  the  States,  iu  which  the  petitions  of  the 
former  assembly  wei-e  acceded  to,  while  a  subsidy  for  war  pur- 
poses was  voted.  And  of  an  assembled  States-general  in 
1366,  Hallam  writes: — "  The  necessity  of  restoring  the  coin- 
age is  strongly  rej)V('sented  as  the  grand  condition  upon  which 
they  consented  to  tax  the  people,  who  had  been  long  defrauded 
by" the  base  money  of  Philip  the  Fair  and  liis  successors." 
Again,  in  S])ain,  the  incorporated  towns,  made  liable  by  their 
charters  only  for  certain  ])aymcnts  and  services,  had  continu- 
ally to  resist  unauthorized  demands;  while  the  kings,  contin- 
ually promising  not  to  take  nion^  than  their  legal  and  cus- 
tomary dues,  were  continually  brt^aking  their  promises.  In 
1328  Alfonso  XT.  "  bound  himself  not  to  exact  from  his  peo- 
ple, or  cause  them  to  pay,  any  tax,  either  partial  or  general,  not 
hitherto  established  by  law,  without  the  previous  grant  of  all 
the  deputies  convened  by  the  Cortes."  And  how  little  such 
])ledgeswere  kept  is  shown  by  the  fact  that,  in  13i)3,  theCortes 
who  made  a  grant  to  TTenry  ITT.,  joined  the  condition  that — 
"Tic  should  swear  l)efore  one  of  the  archbishops  not  to  take  or  demand 
any  nioiiov,  service,  or  loan,  or  anythinp:  else  of  tlie  cities  and  towns,  nor 
of  individuals  belonging  to  them,  on  any  pretence  of  necessity,  until 
the  three  estates  of  the  kinprdom  should  first  be  duly  summoned  and 
assembled  in  C'ortes  accordinic  to  ancient  usajje." 
Similarly  in  England  during  the  lime  wlini  i)arliamcntaiy 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  435 

j)o\ver  was  being  establislicJ.  While,  with  national  consoli- 
dation, tiie  royal  authority  had  been  approacl;ing  to  absolute- 
ness, there  had  been,  by  reaction,  ai'ising  that  resistance 
which,  resulting  in  the  Great  Charter,  subsequently  initiated 
the  prolonged  struggle  between  the  king,  trying  to  break 
through  its  restraints,  and  his  subjects  trying  to  maintain  and 
to  strengthen  them.  The  twelfth  article  of  the  Charter  hav- 
ing promised  that  no  scutage  or  aid  save  those  which  were 
established  should  be  imposed  without  consent  of  the  national 
council,  there  i)erpetually  recurred,  both  before  and  after  the 
expansion  of  Parliament,  endeavours  on  the  king's  part  to  get 
supplies  without  redressing  grievances,  and  endeavours  on 
the  part  of  Parliament  to  make  the  voting  of  supplies  con- 
tingent on  fulfilment  of  promises  to  redress  grievances. 

On  the  issue  of  this  struggle  depended  the  establishment  of 
popular  power;  as  we  are  shown  by  comparing  the  histories 
of  the  French  and  Spanish  Parliaments  with  that  of  the 
English  Parliament.  Quotations  above  given  prove  that  the 
Cortes  originally  established,  and  for  a  time  maintained,  the 
right  to  comply  with  or  to  refuse  the  king's  requests  for 
money,  and  to  impose  their  conditions;  but  they  eventually 
failed  to  get  their  conditions  fulfilled. 

"  In  the  straggling  condition  of  Spanish  liberty  under  Charles  I.,  the 
crown  began  to  neglect  answering  the  petitions  of  Cortes,  or  to  use  un- 
satisfactory generalities  of  expression.  This  gave  rise  to  many  remon- 
strances. The  deputies  insisted,  in  1523,  on  having  answers  before  they 
granted  money.  They  repeated  the  same  contention  in  1535,  and  ob- 
tained a  general  law,  inserted  in  the  Recopilacion,  enacting  that  the 
king  should  answer  all  their  petitions  before  he  dissolved  the  assem- 
bly. This,  however,  was  disregarded  as  before." 
And  thereafter  rapidly  went  on  the  decay  of  parliamentary 
power.  Different  in  form  but  the  same  in  nature,  was  the 
change  which  occurred  in  France.  Having  at  one  time,  as 
shown  above,  made  the  granting  of  money  conditional  on  the 
obtainment  of  justice,  the  States-general  was  induced  to 
surrender  its  restraining  powers.  Charles  YTT. — 
"  obtained  from  the  States  of  the  roval  domains  which  met  in  1439  that 


436  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

thcj-  [the  taillesj  should  be  decUired  permanent,  and  from  1444  he  levied 
them  as  such,  i.e.  uninterruptedly  and  without  previous  vote.  .  .  . 
The  permanence  6i  the  tallies  was  extended  to  the  provinces  annexed 
to  the  crown,  but  these  preserved  the  right  of  voting  them  by  their 
provincial  estates.  .  .  .  lu  the  hands  of  Charles  VII.,  and  Louis  XI., 
the  royal  impost  tended  to  be  freed  from  all  control.  .  .  .  Its  amount 
increased  more  and  more.'' 

Whence,  as  related  bj  Dareste,  it  resulted  that  "  when  tlic 
iailles  and  aides  .  .  .  had  been  made  permanent,  the  con- 
vocation of  the  States-general  ceased  to  be  necessary.  They 
were  little  more  than  show  assemblies."  But  in  oiir  own 
case,  during  the  century  succeeding  the  linal  establishment 
of  Parliament,  frequent  struggles  necessitated  by  royal  eva- 
sions, trickeries,  and  falsehoods,  brought  increasing  power 
to  withhold  supplies  until  petitions  had  been  attended  to. 

Admitting  that  this  issue  was  furthered  by  the  coniiicts  of 
political  factions,  which  diminished  the  coercive  power  of  the 
king,  the  truth  to  be  emphasized  is  that  the  increase  of  a  free 
industrial  population  was  its  fundamental  cause.  The  calling 
together  knights  of  the  shire,  representing  the  class  of  small 
landowners,  which  preceded  on  several  occasions  the  calling 
together  deputies  from  towns,  implied  the  growing  im- 
portance of  this  class  as  one  from  which  money  was  to  be 
raised ;  and  uhcn  deputies  from  towns  were  summoned  to  the 
Parliament  of  1295,  the  fonn  of  summons  shows  that  the 
motive  was  to  get  pecuniary  aid  from  portions  of  the  popula- 
tion which  had  become  relatively  considerable  and  rich.  Al- 
ready the  king  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  sent  special 
agents  to  shires  and  boroughs  to  raise  subsidies  from  them 
for  his  wars.  Already  he  had  assembled  provincial  councils 
formed  of  representatives  from  cities,  boroughs,  and  market- 
towns,  that  he  might  ask  them  for  votes  of  money.  And 
Avhen  the  great  Parliament  was  called  together,  the  reason 
set  forth  in  the  writs  was  that  wars  with  Wales,  Scotland,  and 
France,  were  endangering  the  realm:  the  implication  being 
that  the  necessity  for  obtaining  supplies  led  to  this  recogni- 
tion of  the  towns  as  well  as  the  counties. 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  437 

So  too  was  it  in  Scotland.  The  first  known  occasion  on 
which  representatives  from  burghs  entered  into  political  ac- 
tion, was  when  there  was  urgent  need  for  pecuniary  help 
from  all  sources;  namely,  "  at  Cambuskenneth  on  the  15th 
daj'  of  July,  1326,  when  Bruce  claimed  from  his  people  a 
revenue  to  meet  the  expenses  of  his  glorious  war  and  the 
necessities  of  the  State,  which  was  granted  to  the  monarch 
by  the  earls,  barons,  burgesses,  and  free  tenants,  in  full 
parliament  assembled." 

In  whidh  cases,  while  we  are  again  shown  that  the  obliga- 
tion is  original  and  the  power  derived,  we  are  also  shown  that 
it  is  the  increasing  mass  of  those  who  carry  on  life  by  volun- 
tary cooperation  instead  of  compulsory  cooperation — partly 
the  rural  class  of  small  freeholders  and  still  more  the  urban 
class  of  traders — which  initiates  popular  representation. 

§  502.  Still  there  remains  the  question — How  does  the 
rejwesentative  body  become  separate  from  the  consultative 
body  (  Retaining  the  primitive  character  of  councils  of  war, 
national  assemblies  were  in  the  beginning  mixed.  The  dif- 
ferent "  arms,"  as  the  estates  were  called  in  Spain,  originally 
formed  a  single  body.  Knights  of  the  shire  when  first  sum- 
moned, acting  on  behalf  of  numerous  smaller  tenants  of  the 
king  owing  military  service,  sat  and  voted  with  the  greater 
tenants.  Standing,  as  towns  did  at  the  outset,  very  much  in 
tlie  position  of  fiefs,  those  who  represented  them  were  not  un- 
allied  in  legal  status  to  feudal  chiefs ;  and,  at  first  assembling 
with  these,  in  some  cases  remained  united  with  them,  as  ap- 
pears to  have  been  habitually  the  case  in  France  and  Spain. 
Under  what  circumstances,  then,  do  the  consultative  and 
representative  bodies  differentiate?  The  question  is  one  to 
which  there  seems  no  very  satisfactory  answer. 

Quite  early  we  may  see  foreshadowed  a  tendency  to  part, 
determined  by  unlikeness  of  functions.  During  the  Carolin- 
gian  period  in  France,  there  were  two  annual  gathering-::  a 
laroer  which  all  the  armed  freemen  had  a  riuiit  to  attend,  and 


4-38  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

a  smaller  formed  of  the  greater  personages  deliberating  on 
more  special  affairs. 

"If  the  weather  was  fine,  all  this  passed  in  the  open  air;  if  not,  in 
distinct  buildings  ,  .  .  When  the  lay  and  ecclesiastical  lords  were 
.  .  .  separated  from  the  multitude,  it  remained  in  their  option  to  sit 
together,  or  separately,  according  to  the  affairs  of  which  they  had  to 
treat." 

And  that  milikcncss  of  functicjiis  is  a  cause  of  separation  we 
find  evidence  in  other  places  and  times.  Describing  the 
armed  national  assemblies  of  the  Hungarians,  ^originally 
mixed,  Levy  writes: — "  La  derniere  reunion  de  ce  genre  eut 
lieu  quelque  temps  avant  la  bataille  de  Mohacs;  mais  bientot 
apres,  la  diete  se  divisa  en  deux  cliambres:  la  table  des 
magnats  et  la  table  des  deputes."  In  Scotland,  again,  in 
1367 — 8,  the  three  estates  having  met,  and  wishing,  for 
reasons  of  economy  and  convenience,  to  be  excused  from  their 
functions  as  soon  us  possible,  "  elected  certain  persons  to 
hold  Parliament,  who  were  divided  into  two  bodies,  one  for 
the  general  affairs  of  the  king  and  kingdom,  and  another,  a 
smaller  division,  for  acting  as  judges  upon  appeals."  In  the 
case  of  England  we  find  that  though,  in  the  writs  calling 
together  Simon  of  Montfort's  Parliament,  no  distinction  was 
made  between  magnates  and  deputies,  yet  wIumi,  a  generation 
after.  Parliament  became  established,  the  writs  made  a  dis- 
tinction :  "  counsel  is  deliberately  mentioned  in  the  invita- 
tion to  the  magnates,  action  and  consent  in  the  invitation  to 
representatives."  Indeed  it  is  clear  that  since  the  earlier- 
formed  body  of  magnates  was  habitually  summoned  for  con- 
sultative purposes,  especially  military,  while  the  represen- 
tatives afterwards  added  were  summoned  only  to  grant 
mone}',  there  existed  from  the  outset  a  cause  for  separation. 
Sundry  influences  conspired  to  produce  it.  Difference  of 
language,  still  to  a  considerable  extent  persisting  and  imped- 
ing joint  debate,  furnished  a  reason.  Then  there  was  the 
effect  of  class-feeling,  of  which  we  have  definite  proof. 
Though  they  were  in  tlic  same  assembly,  the  deputies  from 
boroughs  "  sat  apart  both  from  the  barons  and  knights,  who 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  •  439 

disdained  to  mix  with  such  mean  personages;  "  and  probably 
the  deputies  themselves,  little  at  ease  in  presence  of  imposing 
superiors,  preferred  sitting  separately.  Moreover,  it  was 
customary  for  the  several  estates  to  submit  to  taxes  in.  dif- 
ferent proportions;  and  this  tended  to  entail  consultation 
among  the  members  of  each  by  themselves.  Finally,  we  read 
that  "  after  they  [the  deputies]  had  given  their  consent  to 
the  taxes  required  of  them,  their  business  being  then  finished, 
they  separated,  even  though  the  Parliament  still  continued  to 
sit,  and  to  canvass  tlie  national  business."  In  which  last  fact 
we  are  clearly  shown  that  though  aided  by  other  causes, 
unlikeness  of  duties  was  the  essential  cause  which  at  length 
produced  a  permanent  separation  between  the  representative 
body  and  the  consultative  body. 

Thus  at  first  of  little  account,  and  gTowing  in  power  only 
because  the  free  portion  of  the  community  occupied  in  pro- 
duction and  distribution  grew  in  mass  and  importance,  so 
that  its  petitions,  treated  with  increasing  respect  and  more  fre- 
quently yielded  to,  began  to  originate  legislation,  the  repre- 
sentative body  came  to  be  that  part  of  the  governing  agency 
"whicli  more  and  more  expresses  the  sentiments  and  ideas  of 
industrialism.  While  the  monarch  and  upper  house  are  the 
products  of  that  ancient  regime  of  compulsory  cooperation 
the  spirit  of  which  they  still  manifest,  though  in  decreasing 
degrees,  the  lower  house  is  the  product  of  that  modern  regime 
of  voluntary  cooperation  which  is  replacing  it;  and  in  an 
increasing  degi'ee,  this  lower  house  carries  out  the  wishes  of 
people  habituated  to  a  daily  life  regulated  by  contract  instead 
of  by  status. 

§  503.  To  prevent  misconception  it  must  be  remarked,  be- 
fore sunmiing  up,  that  an  account  of  representative  bodies 
which  have  been  in  modern  days  all  at  once  created,  is  not 
here  called  for.  Colonial  legislatures,  consciously  framed  in 
conformity  with  traditions  brought  from  the  mother-country, 
illustrate  the  genesis  of  senatorial  and  representative  bodies 


440  •    POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS 

in  but  a  restrieted  sense:  showing,  as  they  do,  how  the 
structures  of  jiarent  societies  reproduce  themselves  in  derived 
societies,  so  far  as  materials  and  circumstances  allow;  but 
not  showing  how  these  structures  were  originated.  Still  less 
need  we^  notice  those  cases  in  which,  after  revolutions,  peo- 
ples who  have  lived  under  despotisms  are  led  by  imitation 
suddenly  to  estal)lish  representative  bodies.  Here  we  are 
concerned  only  with  the  gradual  evolution  of  such  bodies. 

Originally  supreme,  though  passive,  the  third  element  in 
the  tri-une  political  structure,  subjected  more  and  more  as 
militant  activity  develops  an  appropriate  organization,  begins 
to  re-acquire  power  when  war  ceases  to  be  chronic.  Subordi- 
nation relaxes  as  fast  as  it  becomes  less  imperative.  Awe  of 
the  ruler,  local  or  general,  and  accompanying  manifestations 
of  fealty,  decrease;  and  especially  so  where  the  prestige  of 
supernatural  origin  dies  out.  Where  the  life  is  rural  the 
old  relations  long  survive  in  qualified  forms  ;  but  clans  or 
feudal  groups  clustered  together  in  towns,  mingled  with  num- 
bers of  unattach(>(l  immigrants,  become  in  various  ways  less 
controllable;  while  by  their  hal)its  tlieir  Hieud)ers  are  edu- 
cated to  increasing  indepcuidence.  The  small  industrial 
groups  thus  growing  up  within  a  nation  consolidated  and  or- 
ganized by  militancy,  can  but  gradually  diverge  in  nature 
from  the  rest.  For  a  long  time  they  remain  ]iartially  militant 
in  their  structures  and  in  tlieir  relations  to  other  parts  of  the 
community.  At  first  chartered  towns  cstand  substantially 
on  the  footing  of  fiefs,  paying  feudal  dues  and  owing  military 
service.  They  develop,  within  themselves,  unions,  more  or 
less  coercive  in  character,  for  mutual  protection.  They 
often  carry  on  wars  with  adjacent  nobles  and  with  one 
another.  They  not  uncommonly  form  leagues  for  joint  de- 
fence. And  where  the  semi-militancy  of  towns  is  main- 
tained, industrial  development  aiwl  accompanying  increase  of 
popular  power  are  arrested. 

But  where  circumstances  have  favoured  manufacturingand 
commercial  activities,  and  growth  of  the  population  devoted 


REPRESENTATIVE  BODIES.  441 

to  them,  this,  as  it  becomes  a  large  component  of  the  society, 
makes  its  influence  felt.  The  primary  obligation  to  render 
money  and  service  to  the  head  of  the  State,  often  reluctantly 
complied  with,  is  resisted  when  the  exactions  are  great ;  and 
resistance  causes  conciliatory  measures.  There  comes  asking 
assent  rather  than  resort  to  compulsion.  If  absence  of  vio- 
lent local  antagonisms  permits,  then  on  occasions  when  the 
political  head,  rousing  anger  by  injustice,  is  also  weakened 
by  defections,  there  comes  cooperation  with  other  classes  of 
oppressed  subjects.  Men  originally  delegated  simply  that 
they  may  authorize  imposed  burdens,  are  enabled  as  the 
power  behind  them  increases,  more  and  more  firmly  to  in- 
sist on  conditions;  and  the  growing  practice  of  yielding  to 
their  petitions  as  a  means  to  obtaining  their  aid,  initiates  the 
practice  of  letting  them  share  in  legislation. 

Finally,  in  virtue  of  the  general  law  of  organization  that 
difference  of  functions  entails  differentiation  and  division  of 
the  parts  performing  them,  there  comes  a  separation.  At 
first  summoned  to  the  national  assembly  for  purposes  par- 
tially alike  and  partially  unlike  those  of  its  other  members, 
the  elected  members  show  a  segregating  tendency,  which, 
where  the  industrial  portion  of  the  community  continues  to 
gain  power,  ends  in  the  formation  of  a  representative  body 
distinct  from  the  original  consultative  body. 


CHAPTEK  X. 


MINISTRIES. 


§  504.  Men  chosen  by  the  ruler  to  help  him,  we  meet  with 
in  early  stages  of  social  evolution — men  whose  positions  and 
duties  are  then  vague  and  variable.  At  the  outset  there  is 
nothing  to  determine  the  selection  of  helpers  save  considera- 
tions of  safety,  or  convenience,  or  liking.  Hence  we  find 
ministers  of  quite  different  origins. 

Relationship  leads  to  the  choice  in  some  places  and  times; 
as  with  the  Bachassins,  among  whom  the  chief's  brother 
conveys  his  orders  and  sees  them  executed;  as  of  old  in 
Japan,  where  the  Emperor's  son  was  prime  minister  and  the 
daimios  had  cadets  of  their  families  as  counsellors;  as  in 
ancient  Egypt  where  "  the  principal  officers  of  the  Court  or 
administration  ai)])ear  to  have  been  at  the  earliest  period  the 
relatives  "  of  the  king.  Though  in  some  cases  family-jealousy 
excludes  kinsmen  from  these  places  of  authority,  in  other 
cases  family  feeling  and  trust,  and  the  belief  that  the  desire 
for  family-predominance  will*  ensure  loyalty,  lead  to  the 
employment  of  brothers,  cousins,  nephews,  &c. 

More  general  appears  to  be  the  unobtrusive  growth  of  per- 
sonal attendants,  or  household  servants,  into  servants  of  State. 
Those  who  are  constantly  in  contact  with  the  ruler  have 
opportunities  of  aiding  or  hindering  intercourse  with  him, 
•of  biassing  him  by  their  statements,  and  of  helping  or 
impeding  the  execution  of  his  commands;    and  they  thus 

gain  power,  and   tend   to  bonome  advising  and  executive 

442 


MINISTRIES.  443 

agents.      From  the  earliest  times  onwards  we  meet  with, 
illustrations.     In  ancient  Egypt — 

"The  office  of  fan-bearer  to  the  king  was  a  highly  honourable  post, 
which  none  but  the  royal  princes,  or  the  sons  of  the  first  nobility,  were 
permitted  to  hold.  These  constituted  a  principal  part  of  his  staff; 
and  in  the  field  they  either  attended  on  the  monarch  to  receive  his 
orders,  or  were  despatched  to  have  the  command  of  a  division." 
In  Assyria  the  attendants  who  thus  rose  to  power  were  not 
relatives,  but  were  habitually  eunuchs;  and  the  like  hap- 
pened in  Persia.  "  In  the  later  times,  the  eunuchs  acquired 
a  vast  political  authority,  and  appear  to  have  then  filled  all 
the  chief  offices  of  state.  They  were  the  king's  advisers  in 
the  palace,  and  his  generals  in  the  field."  Kindred  illustra- 
tions are  furnished  by  the  West.  Shown  among  the  primitive 
Germans,  the  tendency  for  officers  of  the  king's  household  to 
become  political  officers,  was  conspicuous  in  the  Merovingian 
period:  the  seneschal,  the  marshal,  the  chamberlain,  grew 
into  public  functionaries.  Down  to  the  later  feudal  period 
in  France,  the  public  and  household  administrations  of  the 
king  were  still  undistinguished.  So  was  it  in  old  English 
times.  According  to  Kemble,  the  four  great  officers  of  the 
Court  and  Household  were  the  Hrsege  Thegn  (servant  of  the 
wardrobe) ;  the  Steallere  and  Horsthegn  (first.  Master  of  the 
Horse,  then  General  of  the  Household  Troops,  then  Con- 
stable or  Grand  Marshal);  the  Discthegn  (or  thane  of  the 
table — afterwards  Seneschal) ;  the  Butler  (perhaps  Byrele 
or  Scenca).  The  like  held  under  the  conquering  Xormans; 
and  it  holds  in  a  measure  down  to  the  present  time. 

Besides  relatives  and  servants,  friends  are  naturally  in 
some  cases  fixed  on  by  the  ruler  to  get  him  information,  give 
him  advice,  and  carry  out  his  orders.  Among  ancient  exam- 
ples the  Hebrews  furnish  one.  Remarking  that  in  the  small 
kingdoms  around  Israel  in  earlier  times,  it  was  customary  for 
the  ruler  to  have  a  single  friend  to  aid  him,  Ewald  points  out 
that  under  David,  with  a  larger  State  and  a  more  complex  ad- 
ministration, ''the  different  departments  are  necessarily  more 
subdivided,  and  new  officers  of  '  friends '  or  ministers  of  the 


441  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

king  assume  a  sort  of  indepeiideut  inijiortance."  Like  needs 
produced  kindred  effects  in  the  lii'st  days  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire.    Duruy  writes: — 

"Augustus,  who  called  himself  a  plain  Roman  citizen,  could  not,  like 
a  king,  have  ministers,  but  only  friends  who  aided  him  with  their  ex- 
perience. .  .  .  Tlie  multitude  of  questions  .  .  .  induced  him  after- 
wards to  distribute  the  cliief  affairs  regularly  among  his  friends.  .  .  . 
This  council  was  gradually  organized." 

And  then  in  htter  chiys  and  other  regions,  we  see  that  out  of 
the  group  known  as  "  friends  of  the  king  "  there  are  often 
some,  or  there  is  one,  in  whom  conlidence  is  reposed  and  to 
whom  power  is  deputed.  In  Russia  the  relation  of  Lefort  to 
Peter  the  Great,  in  Spain  that  of  Albuquerque  to  Don  Pedro, 
and  among  ourselves  that  of  Gaveston  to  Edward  II.,  suf- 
ficiently illustrate  the  genesis  of  ministerial  power  out  of 
the  power  gained  by  personal  friendship  and  consequent 
trust.  And  then  with  instances  of  this  kind  are  to  be 
joined  instances  showing  how  attachment  between  the  sexes 
comes  into  i)lay.  Such  facts  as  that  after  Albuquerque  fell, 
all  officers  about  the  court  were  filled  by  relations  of  the 
king's  mistress;  that  in  France  under  Louis  XV.  "  the  only 
visible  government  was  that  by  women  ''  from  Mme.  de 
Prie  to  Mme.  du  Barry;  and  that  in  Russia  during  the  reign 
of  Catherine  II.,  her  successive  lovers  acquired  political 
power,  and  became  some  of  them  prime  ministers  and  prac- 
tically autocrats;  will  serve  adequately  to  recall  a  tendency 
habitually  displayed. 

Regarded  as  able  to  help  the  ruler  supernaturally  as  well 
as  nattirally,  the  priest  is  apt  to  become  his  chosen  ally  and 
agent.  The  Tahitians  may  be  named  as  having  a  prime 
minister  who  is  also  chief  priest.  In  Africa,  among  the 
Eggarahs  (Inland  Xegroes),  a  priest  "  officiates  as  minister  of 
war."  How  political  power  of  priests  results  from  their  sup- 
posed influence  with  the  gods,  is  well  shown  by  the  case  of 
Mizteca  (part  of  Mexico). 

"The  hiffh-priests  were  highly  respected  by  the  caziques,  wlio  did 
nothing  witliout  their  advice;  they  commanded  armies,  and  ruled  the 


MINISTRIES.  445 

state,  reproved  vice,  and  when  there  was  no  amendment,  threatened 
famine,  plague,  war,  and  the  anger  of  the  gods." 

Other  places  iu  ancient  America — Guatemala,  Vera  Paz,  &c., 
furnish  kindred  facts ;  as  do  historic  peoples  from  the  earliest 
times  downwards.  Iu  ancient  Egypt  the  kings'  advisers 
mostly  belonged  to  the  priestly  caste.  Under  the  Roman  em- 
perors ecclesiastics  became  ministers  and  secret  counsellors. 
In  mediaeval  days  Dominican  and  Franciscan  monks  held  the 
highest  jDolitical  oHiccs.  And  in  later  times  the  connexion 
was  shown  by  the  ministerial  power  of  cardinals,  or,  as  in 
Russia,  of  patriarchs.  This  acquisition  of  leading  political 
functions  by  functionaries  of  the  church,  has  in  some  cases 
special  causes  iu  addition  to  the  general  cause.  A  royal 
chaplain  (uniting  the  character  of  personal  attendant  with 
that  of  priest)  stands  in  a  relation  to  the  king  which  almost 
necessitates  acquisition  of  great  influence.  ^Moreover,  being 
fitted  by  culture  for  secretarial  work,  he  falls  naturally  into 
certain  State-duties;  as  he  did  into  those  of  chancellor  among 
ourselves  in  early  days. 

Recognizing  the  fact  that  at  the  outset,  these  adminis- 
trative agents,  whatever  further  characters  they  have,  are 
usually  also  soldiers,  and  are  included  in  the  primitive  consul- 
tative body,  of  which  they  become  specialized  parts,  we  may 
say  of  them  generally,  that  they  are  relatives,  friends,  attend- 
ants, priests,  brought  into  close  relations  with  the  ruler,  out 
of  wliom  he  is  obliged  by  stress  of  business  to  choose  assist- 
ants; and  tliat  at  first  vague  and  irregular,  their  appoint- 
ments and  functions  gradually  acquire  definiteness. 

§  505.  Amid  much  that  is  too  indefinite  for  generaliza- 
tion, a  few  tolerably  constant  traits  of  ministers,  and  traits  of 
ministries,  may  be  briefly  indicated. 

That  a  trusted  agent  commonly  acquires  power  over  his 
principal,  is  a  fact  everywhere  observable.  Even  in  a  gen- 
tleman's household  a  head  servant  of  long  standing  not 
iiiifre()iioiitlv  gains  such   influence,   that   his  master   is   in 


446  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

various  matters  guided  bv  him — almost  controlled  by  hi  in. 
With  chief  officers  of  State  it. has  often  been  the  same;  and 
especially  where  hereditary  snccession  is  well  established.  A 
ruler  who,  young,  or  idle,  or  pleasure-seeking,  performs  his 
duties  by  proxy,  or  who,  through  personal  liking  or  entire 
trust,  is  led  to  transfer  his  authority,  presently  becomes  so 
ill  informed  concerning  affairs,  or  so  unused  to  modes  of  pro- 
cedure, as  to  be  almost  powerless  in  the  hands  of  his  agent. 

Where  hereditary  succession  pervades  the  society  and  fixes 
its  organization,  there  is  sometimes  shown  a  tendency  to 
inheritance,  not  of  the  rulership  only,  but  also  of  these 
offices  which  grow  into  deputy-rulerships.  Under  the  Xor- 
man  dukes  before  the  Conquest,  the  places  of  seneschal, 
cup-bearer,  constable,  and  chamlxn-lain,  were  ''  hereditary 
grand  serjeanties."  In  England  in  Henry  II. 's  time,  succes- 
sion to  the  posts  of  high-steward,  constable,  chamberlain,  and 
butler,  followed  from  father  to  son  in  the  houses  of  Leicester, 
Miles,  Yere,  and  Albini.  So  was  it  with  the  Scotch  in  King 
David's  reign:  "  the  offices  of  great  steward  and  high  con- 
stable had  become  hereditary  in  the  families  of  Stewart  and 
De  ]\rorevil."  And  then  in  Japan  the  ]ii-in('i]il('  of  inheritance 
of  ministerial  position  had  so  established  itself  as  to  insure 
ministerial  supremacy.  In  these  cases  there  come 

into  play  influences  and  methods  like  those  which  conduce  to 
hereditary  kingship.  AVhen,  as  during  the  later  feudal  period 
in  France,  we  see  efforts  made  to  fix  in  certain  lines  of 
descent,  the  chief  offices  of  State  (efforts  which,  in  that  case, 
sometimes  succeeded  and  sometimes  failed),  we  are  shown 
that  ministers  use  the  facilities  which  their  places  give  them, 
to  establish  succession  to  these  places  in  tlicir  own  families, 
in  the  same  way  that  early  kings  do.  Just  as,  during  the 
stage  of  elective  kingship,  the  king  is  apt  to  use  the  advan- 
tages derived  from  his  position  to  secure  the  throne  for  his 
son,  by  getting  liim  chosen  during  his  own  life,  and  thns  to 
initiate  hereditary  succession;  so  the  minister  who  has  been 
allowed  to  acquire  great  power,  is  prompted  to  employ  it  foi- 


MINISTRIES.  447 

the  purpose  of  establishing  a  monopoly  of  his  office  among 
his  own  descendants.  Generally  his  desire  is  effectually 
antagonized  by  that  of  the  ruler;  but  where,  as  in  Japan, 
seclusion  of  the  ruler  impedes  his  hold  on  affairs,  this  desire 
of  the  minister  takes  effect. 

Since  there  ever  tend  to  arise  these  struggles  between  a 
king  and  one  or  more  of  those  who  serve  him — since  his  efforts 
to  maintain  his  authority  are  sometimes  so  far  defeated  that 
he  is  obliged  to  accept  assistants  who  are  hereditary;  there 
results  a  jealousy  of  those  whose  interests  are  at  variance 
with  his  own',  and  an  endeavour  to  protect  himself  by  ex- 
cluding them  from  office.  There  comes  a  motive  for  choosing 
as  ministers  men  who,  having  no  children,  cannot  found 
houses  which,  growing  powerful,  may  compete  for  supremacy ; 
and  hence  in  certain  times  the  preference  for  celibate  priests. 
Or,  from  allied  motives,  men  neither  clerical  nor  military  are 
selected;  as  in  France,  where  in  the  loth  and  ITtli  centuries, 
members  of  theboui^geois  class  came  to  be  preferred.  A  policy 
like  that  shown  in  the  befriending  of  towns  as  a  set-off  against 
feudal  chiefs,  prompted  the  official  employment  of  citizens 
instead  of  nobles.  Under  other  conditions,  again,  there  is  a 
jealousy  of  ecclesiastics  and  an  exclusion  of  them  from  power. 
For  generations  before  the  time  of  Peter  the  Great,  the  head 
of  the  churcJi  in  Russia  was  "  considered  the  second  person  in 
the  empire;  he  was  consulted  on  all  State-affairs,  until  at 
length,  their  [his]  spiritual  pride  outrunning  all  decorum, 
venturing  upon,  and  even  attempting  to  control  the  sovereign 
power,  it  was  resolved  by  Peter  the  Great  to  abolish  the 
patriarchate  altogether."  Between  Louis  XIV.  and  the  Pope, 
there  was  a  conflict  for  supremacy  over  the  French  church ; 
and  on  more  occasions  than  one,  certain  of  the  clergy  en- 
couraged "tlic  absolutist  pretensions  of  the  Koman  Pontiffs: " 
the  result  being  tliat  such  prelates  as  held  office  were  those 
who  subordinated  clerical  to  political  aims,  and  that -by 
Louis  XIV., after  IGGl,  "no  churchman  was  allowed  to  touch 
the  great  engine  of  State-government.'"  Among  ourselves 
87 


448  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

may  be  traced,  if  less  clearly,  the  working  of  kindred  tenden- 
cies. During  the  15th  century,  "clergymen  were  secretaries 
of  government,  the  privy  seals,  cabinet  councillors,  treasurers 
of  the  crown,  ambassadors,  commissioners  to  open  parlia- 
ment, and  to  Scotland;  presidents  of  the  king's  council, 
supervisors  of  the  royal  works,  chancellors,  keepers  of  the 
records,  the  masters  of  the  rolls,  (fee;  "  but  with  antagonisni 
to  the  Church  came  partial,  and  in  later  days  complete,  dis- 
appearance of  the  clerical  element  from  the  administration. 
Under  Henry  VIII.  the  King's  secretary,  and  afterwards  the 
chancellor,  ceased  to  be  ecclesiastics;  while  of  the  council  of 
sixteen  executors  appointed  to  govern  during  the  minority  of 
his  son,  three  only  were  in  holy  orders.  And  though,  during 
a  subsequent  temporary  revival  of  papal  influence,  there  was 
a  re-acquirement  of  ministerial  position  by  priests,  they  after- 
wards again  ceased  to  be  chosen. 

Whether  a  ruler  is  able  to  prevent  high  offices  of  State 
from  being  held  by  men  whose  ambitions  and  interests  he 
fears,  depends,  however,  upon  his  acquirement  of  adequate 
predominance.  A  class  which,  being  powerful,  is  excluded 
as  therefore  dangerous,  being  still  more  powerful,  cannot  be 
excluded;  and  is  apt  either  to  monopolize  administrative 
functions  or  practically  to  dictate  the  choice  of  ministers.  In 
ancient  Egypt,  where  the  priesthood  was  pre-eminent  in 
influence,  the  administration  was  chiefly  officered  by  its 
members,  with  the  result  that  at  one  time  there  was  usurpa- 
tion of  the  kingship  by  priests;  and  the  days  during  which 
the  Catholic  church  was  most  powerful  throughout  Europe, 
were  the  days  during  wliich  high  political  posts  were  very 
generally  held  by  prelates.  In  other  cases  supremacy  of 
the  military  class  is  shown;  as  in  Japan,  where  soldiers  have 
habitually  been  tlic  ministers  and  practically  usurpers;  as  in 
feudal  England,  when  Henry  III.  was  obliged  by  the  barons 
to  accept  Hugh  Le  Despenser  as  chief  justiciary,  and  otlier 
nominees  as  officers  of  his  household ;  or  as  when,  in  the  East, 
down  to  our  own  time,  changes  of  ministry  are  insisted 


MINISTRIES.  449 

oil  by  the  soldiery.  Xaturally  in  respect  of  these  administra- 
tive offices,  as  in  respect  of  all  other  places  of  power,  there 
arises  a  conliict  between  the  chiefs  of  the  warrior  class,  who 
are  the  agents  of  the  terrestrial  ruler,  and  tlie  chiefs  of  the 
clerical  class,  who  profess  to  be  agents  of  the  celestial  ruler; 
and  the  predominance  of  the  one  or  the  other  class,  is  in 
many  eases  implied  by  the  extent  to  which  it  fills  the  chief 
offices  of  State. 

Such  facts  show  us  that  where  there  has  not  yet  been 
established  any  regular  process  for  making  the  chief  ad\'isers 
and  agents  of  the  ruler  into  authorized  exponents  of  public 
opinion,  there  nevertheless  occurs  an  irregular  process  by 
which  some  congruity  is  maintained  between  the  actions  of 
these  deputy  rulers  and  the  will  of  the  community;  .or,  at 
any  rate,  the  will  of  that  part  which  can  express  its  will. 

§  506.  Were  elaboration  desirable,  and  collection  of  the 
needful  data  less  difficult,  a  good  deal  might  here  be  added 
respecting  the  development  of  ministries. 

Of  course  it  could,  in  multitudinous  cases,  be  shown  how, 
beginning  as  simple,  they  become  compound — the  solitary 
assistant  to  the  chief,  helping  him  in  all  ways,  develop- 
ing into  the  numerous  great  officers  of  the  king,  dividing 
among  them  duties  which  have  become  extensive  and  in- 
volved. Along  with  this  differentiation  of  a  ministry  might 
also  be  traced  the  integration  of  it  that  takes  place  under 
certain  conditions:  the  observable  change  being  from  a  state 
in  which  the  departmental  officers  separately  take  from  the 
ruler  their  instructions,  to  a  state  in  which  they  fonii  an 
incorporated  body.  There  might  be  pursued  an  inquiry  re- 
specting the  conditions  under  which  this  incorporated  body 
gains  power  and  accompanying  responsibility;  with  the  pro- 
bable result  of  showing  that  develo]mient  of  an  active 
executive  council,  and  acompanying  reduction  of  the  original 
executive  head  to  an  automatic  state,  characterizes  that  re- 
presentative form  of  government  projier  to  tlie  industrial 


450  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

type.  But  while  results  neither  definite  nor  important  are 
likely  to  be  reached,  the  reaching  of  such  as  are  promised 
would  necessitate  investigation  at  once  tedious  and  unsatis- 
factory. 

For  such  ends  as  are  here  in  view,  it  suffices  to  recognize 
the  general  facts  above  sefforth.  As  the  political  head  is  at 
first  but  a  slightly-distinguished  member  of  the  grou}) — now 
a  chief  whose  private  life  and  resources  arc  like  those  of  any 
other  warrior,  now  a  patriarch  or  a  feudal  lord  who,  becoming 
predominant  overother  patriarchs  or  other  fcnidal  lords,  at  first 
lives  like  them  on  revenues  derived  from  private  possessions 
— so  the  assistants  of  the  political  head  take  their  rise  from 
the  personal  connexions,  friends,  servants,  around  him:  they 
are  those  who  stand  to  him  in  private  relations  of  blood,  or 
liking,  or  service.  With  the  extension  of  territory,  the  in- 
crease of  affairs,  and  the  growth  of  classes  having  special 
interests,  there  come  into  play  influences  which  differentiate 
some  of  those  who  surround  the  ruler  into  public  function- 
aries,distinguished  from  members  of  his  family  and  his  house- 
hold. And  these  influences,  joined  with  special  circum- 
stances, determine  the  kinds  of  jHiblic  men  who  come  into 
power.  AVhere  the  absoluteness  of  the  political  head  is  little 
or  not  at  all  restrained,  he  makes  arbitrary  choice  irrespective 
of  rank,  occupation,  or  origin.  If,  being  predominant,  there 
are  nevertheless  classes  of  whom  he  is  jealous,  exclusion  of 
these  becomes  his  policy;  while  if  his  predominance  is  in- 
adequate, representatives  of  such  classes  are  forced  into  office. 
And  this  foreshadows  the  system  under  which,  along  with 
decline  of  monarchical  power,  there  grows  iij»  :iii  incorporated 
body  of  ministers  having  for  its  recognized  function  to  exe- 
cute the  public  will. 


CHAPTEK  XL 


LOCAL    GOVERNING    AGENCIES. 


§  507.  The  title  is  needed  because  the  classes  of  facts  to 
be  here  dealt  with,  cover  a  wider  area  than  those  compre- 
hended under  the  title  "  Local  Governments." 

AVe  have  to  deal  with  two  kinds  of  appliances  for  control, 
originally  one  but  gradually  becoming  distinguished.  Alike 
among  peoples  characterized  by  the  reckoning  of  kinship 
through  females,  and  among  peoples  characterized  by  descent 
of  property  and  power  through  males,  the  regulative  system 
based  on  blood-relationship  is  liable  to  be  involved  with,  and 
subordinated  by,  a  regulative  system  originating  from  mili- 
tary leadership.  Authority  established  by  triumph  in  war, 
not  unfrequently  comes  into  conflict  with  authority  derived 
from  the  law  of  succession,  when  this  has  become  partially  set- 
tled, and  initiates  a  differentiation  of  political  headship  from 
family  headship.  We  have  seen  that,  from  primitive  stages 
upwards,  the  principle  of  efficiency  and  the  principle  of  in- 
heritance are  both  at  work  in  determining  men's  social  posi- 
tions; and  wliei:e,  as  happens  in  many  cases,  a  war-chief  is  ap- 
pointed when  the  occasion  arises,  notwithstanding  the  exist- 
ence of  a  chief  of  acknowledged  legitimacy,  there  is  a 
tendency  for  transmitted  power  to  be  over-ridden  by  power 
derived  from  capacity.  Lrom  the  beginning,  then,  there  is 
apt  to  grow  up  a  species  of  government  distinct  from  family- 
government;    and  the  aptitude  takes  effect  where  many 

451 


452  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS, 

family-groups,  becoming  united,  carrv  on  militant  activities. 
The  growth  of  the  family  into  the  gens,  of  the  gens  into  the 
phratry,  of  the  phratry  into  the  tribe,  implies  the  multiplica- 
tion of  groups  more  and  more  remotely  akin,  and  less  and  less 
easily  subordinated  by  the  head  of  some  nominally-leading 
grouji;  and  when  local  aggregation  brings  interfusion  of 
tribeswhich,  though  of  the  same  stock,  have  lost  their  common 
genealogy,  the  rise  of  some  headship  other  than  the  headships 
of  family-groups  becomes  imminent.  Though  such  political 
headship,  passing  through  the  elective  stage,  often  becomes 
itself  inheritable  after  the  same  manner  as  the  original  family- 
headships,  yet  it  constitutes  a  new  kind  of  headship.     . 

Of  the  local  governing  agencies  to  which  family-headships 
and  political  headships  give  origin,  as  groups  become  com- 
pounded and  re-compounded,  we  will  consider  first  the  poli- 
tical, as  being  most  directly  related  to  the  central  governing 
agencies  hitherto  dealt  with. 

§  508.  According  to  the  relative  powers  of  conqueror  and 
conquered,  war  establishes  various  degrees  of  subordination. 
Here  the  payment  of  tribute  and  occasional  expression  of 
homage,  interfere  but  little  with  political  independence;  and 
there  political  independence  is  almost  or  quite  lost.  General- 
ly, however,  at  the  outset  the  victor  either  finds  it  necessary  to 
respect  thesubstantial  autonomies  of  the  vanquished  societies, 
or  finds  it  his  best  policy  to  do  this.  Hence,  before  integra- 
tion has  proceeded  far,  local  governments  are  usually  nothing 
more  than  those  governments  of  the  parts  which  existed 
before  they  were  united  into  a  whole. 

We  find  instances  of  undecided  subordination  everywhere. 
In  Tahiti  "  the  actual  inflnence  of  the  king  over  the  haughty 
and  despotic  district  chieftains,  was  neither  powerful  nor 
permanent."  Of  our  own  jiolitical  organization  in  old  Eng- 
lish times  Kemble  writes: — "  the  whole  executive  govern- 
ment may  be  considered  as  a  great  aristocratic  association,  of 
which  the  ealdormen  were  the  constituent  earls,  and  the  king 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  453 

little  more  than  president."  Similarly  during  early  feudal 
times;  as,  for  example,  in  France.  "  Under  the  first  Cape- 
tians,  we  find  scarcely  any  general  act  of  legislation.  .  .  . 
Everything  was  local,  and  all  the  possessors  of  fiefs  first,  and 
afterwaixls  all  the  great  suzerains,  possessed  the  legislative 
power  within  their  domain."  This  is  the  kind  of  relation 
habitually  seen  during  the  initial  stages  of  those  clustered 
groups  in  which  one  group  has  acquired  power  over  the  rest. 

In  cases  where  the  successful  invader,  external  to  the  cluster 
instead  of  internal,  is  powerful  enough  completely  to  subju- 
gate all  the  groups,  it  still  happens  that  the  pre-existing  local 
organizations  commonly  survive.  Ancient  American  states 
yield  examples.  "  When  the  kings  of  Mexico,  Tezcuco,  and 
Tacuba  conquered  a  province,  they  used  to  maintain  in  their 
authority  all  the  natural  chiefs,  the  highest  as  well  as  the 
lower  ones."  Concerning  certain  rulers  of  Chibcha  com- 
munities, who  became  subject  to  Bogota,  we  read  that  the 
Zipa  subdued  them,  but  left  them  their  jurisdiction  and  left 
the  succession  to  the  caziqueship  in  their  families.  And  as 
was  pointed  out  under  another  head,  the  victorious  Yncas 
left  outstanding  the  political  headships  and  administrations  of 
the  many  small  societies  they  consolidated.  Such  is,  in  fact, 
the  most  convenient  policy.  As  is  remarked  by  Sir  Henry 
Maine,  "  certain  institutions  of  a  primitive  people,  their  cor- 
porations and- village-communities,  will  always  be  preserved 
by  a  suzerain-state  governing  them,  on  account  of  the  facilities 
which  they  afford  to  civil  and  fiscal  administration ; "  and  the 
like  may  be  said  of  the  larger  regulative  structures.  Indeed 
the  difficulty  of  suddenly  replacing  an  old  local  organization 
by  an  entirely  new  one,  is  so  great  that  almost  of  necessity  the 
old  one  is  in  large  measure  retained. 

The  autonomies  of  local  govorniiients,  thus  sometimes 
scarcely  at  all  interfered  with  and  in  other  cases  but  partially 
suppressed,  manifest  themselves  in  various  ways.  The 
original  independence  of  groups  continues  to  be  shown  by 
the  right  of  private  war  between  them.     They  retain  their 


454  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

local  gods,  their  eet'lcsiastical  organizations,  their  religious 
festivals.  And  in  time  of  general  war  the  contingents  they 
severally  furnish  remain  separate.  Egyptian  nomes,  Greek 
cities,  feudal  lordships,  yield  illustrations. 

§  509.  The  gradual  disappearance  of  local  autonomies  is 
a  usual  outcome  of  the  struggle  between  the  governments  of 
the  parts,  which  try  to  retain  their  powers,  and  the  central 
government,  which  tries  to  diminish  their  powers. 

In  proportion  as  his  hands  are  strengthened,  chiefly  by 
successful  wars,  the  major  political  head  increases  his 
restraints  over  the  minor  political  heads;  first  by  stopping 
private  wars  among  them,  then  by  interfering  as  arbitrator, 
then  by  acquiring  an  appellate  jurisdiction.  Where  the  local 
rulers  have  been  impoverished  by  their  struggles  with  one 
another,  or  by  futile  attempts  to  recover  their  independence, 
or  by  drafts  made  on  their  resources  for  external  wars — 
where,  also,  followers  of  the  central  ruler  have  grown  into  a 
new  order  of  nobles,  with  gifts  of  conquered  or  usur})ed  lands 
as  rewards  for  services;  the  way  is  prepared  for  administrative 
agencies  centrally  appointed.  Thus  in  France,  when  the  mon- 
arch became  dominant,  the  seigneurs  were  gradually  deprived 
of  legislative  authority.  Royal  confirmation  became  requisite 
to  make  signorial  "acts  valid;  and  the  crown  acquired  the 
exclusive  right  of  granting  charters,  the  exclusive  right  of 
ennobling,  the  exclusive  right  of  coining.  Then  with  decline 
in  the  power  of  the  original  local  rulers  came  deputies  of  the 
king  overlooking  them :  provincial  governors  holding  office  at 
the  king's  pleasure  were  nominated.  In  subsequent  periods 
grew  up  the  administration  of  intendants  and  their  sub-dele- 
gates, acting  as  agents  of  the  crown ;  and  wliatever  small  local 
powers  remained  were  exercised  under  central  supervision. 
English  history  at  various  stages  yields  kindred  illustrations. 
AVhcn  ^fercia  was  formed  out  of  petty  kingdoms,  the  local 
kings  became  ealdoi-men;  and  a  like  change  took  place 
afterwards  on  a  larger  scale.     "  From  the  time  of  Ecgberht 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  455 

onwards  there  is  a  marked  distinction  between  the  King  and 
the  Ealdorman.  The  King  is  a  sovereign,  the  Ealdorman 
is  only  a  magistrate."  Just  noting  that  under  Cnut,  eal- 
donnen  became  subordinated  by  the  appointment  of  earls, 
and  again  that  under  William  I.  earldoms  were  filled  up  afresh, 
we  observe  that  after  the  War  of  the  Roses  had  weakened 
them,  the  hereditary  nobles  had  their  local  powers  interfered 
with  by  those  of  centrally-appointed  lords-lieutenant.  Not 
only  provincial  governing  agencies  of  a  personal  kind  come 
to  be  thus  subordinated  as  the  integration  furthered  by  war 
progresses,  but  also  those  of  a  popular  kind.  The  old  Eng- 
lish Scirgerefa,  who  presided  over  the  Sciregemot,  was  at 
first  elective,  but  was  afterwards  nominated  by  the  king. 
Under  a  later  regime  there  occurred  a  kindred  change:  "  9 
Edward  II.  abulislied  the  popular  right  to  election  "  to  the 
office  of  sheriff.  And  similarly,  '*  from  the  beginning  of 
Edward  III.'s  reign,  the  appointment  of  conservators  "  of  the 
peace,  who  were  originally  elected,  "  was  vested  in  the 
crown,"  "  and  their  title  changed  to  that  of  justices." 

With  sufiicient  distinctness  such  facts  show  us  that,  rapidly 
where  a  cluster  of  small  societies  is  subjugated  by  an  in- 
vader, and  slowly  where  one  among  them  acquires  an  estab- 
lished supremacy,  the  local  rulers  lose  their  directive  powers 
and  become  executive  agents  only;  discharging  whatever 
duties  they  retain  as  the  servants  of  newer  local  agents. 
In  the  course  of  political  integration,  the  original  governing 
centres  of  the  component  parts  become  relatively  automatic 
in  their  functions. 

§  510.  A  further  truth  to  be  noted  is  that  there  habitually 
exists  a  kinship  in  structure  between  the  general  government 
and  the  local  governments.  Several  causes  conspire  to  pro- 
duce this  kinship. 

Where  one  of  a  cluster  of  groups  has  acquired  power 
over  the  rest,  eitlier  directly  by  the  victories  of  its  ruler 
over  them,   or   indirectly   by   his   successful   leadei*ship   of 


456  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

the  confederation  in  war,  this  kinship  becomes  a  matter  of 
course.  For  under  Buch  conditions  tlie  general  goNX-rnment 
is  but  a  development  of  that  which  was  previously  one  of 
the  local  govei-nmcnts.  We  have  a  familiar  illustration  fur- 
nished by  old  English  times  in  the  likeness  between  the  hun- 
dred-moot (a  small  local  governing  assembly),  the  shire-moot 
(constituted  in  an  analogous  way,  but  having  military,  judi- 
cial, and  fiscal  duties  of  a  \vider  kind,  and  headed  by  a  chief 
originally  elected),  and  the  national  witanagcmot  (con- 
taining originally  the  same  class-elements,  though  in  dif- 
ferent proportions,  headed  by  a  king,  also  at  fii"st  elected, 
and  discharging  like  functions  on  a  larger  scale.  This 
similarity  recurs  under  another  phase.  Sir  Henry  Maine 
says : — 

"  It  has  often,  indeed,  been  noticed  that  a  Feudal  Monarcliy  was  an 
exact  counterpart  of  a  Feudal  Manor,  but  the  reason  of  the  correspon- 
dence is  only  now  beginninn^  to  dawn  upon  us,  which  is,  that  both  of 
them  were  in  their  origin  bodies  of  assmned  kinsmen  settled  on  land 
and  undergoing  the  s;une  transmutation  of  ideas  through  the  fact  of 
settlement." 

Of  France  in  the  early  feudal  period,  Maury  says,  "  the  court 
of  every  great  feudatory  was  the  image,  of  course  sliglitly 
reduced,  of  that  of  the  king;  "  and  the  facts  he  names  curi- 
ously show  that  locally,  as  generally,  there  was  a  develop- 
ment of  servants  into  ministerial  officers.  Ivindred  evidence 
comes  from  other  parts  of  the  world — Japan,  several  Afri- 
can States,  sundry  Polynesian  islands,  ancient  Mexico,  Medi- 
icval  India,  <fec. ;  where  forms  of  society  essentially  similar 
to  tliose  of  the  feudal  system  exist  or  have  existed. 

Where  tlie  local  autonomy  has  been  almost  or  quite  de- 
stroyed, as  by  a  powerful  invading  race  bringing  witli  it 
nnother  type  of  orgjinization,  we  still  see  the  same  tiling;  for 
its  tendency  is  to  niodify  the  institutions  Incally  as  it 
modifies  them  gencrjilly.  I''i-oiii  curly  times  eastern  king- 
doms have  slunvn  us  this;  as  instance  tlie  provincial  rulers, 
or  satraps,  f)f  the  Persians.  ''While  .  .  .  tliev  remained  in 
office  they  were  despotic — tliey  represented  the  CJreat  King, 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  457 

and  were  clothed  with  a  portion  of  his  majestv.  .  .  .  They 
wielded  the  power  of  life  and  death."  And  down  to  the 
present  day  this  union  of  central  cliief-despot  with  local  sub- 
despots  survives;  as  is  implied  by  Rawlinson's  remark  that 
these  ancient  satraps  had  "  that  full  and  complete  authority 
which  is  possessed  by  Turkish  pashas  and  modern  Persian 
khansor  beys — an  authority  practically  uncontrolled."  Other 
ancient  societies  of  quite  other  types  displayed  this  tendency 
to  assimilate  the  structures  of  the  incorporated  parts  to  that 
of  the  incorporating  whole.  Grecian  history  shows  us  that 
oligarchic  Sparta  sought  to  propagate  oligarchy  as  a  form  of 
government  in  dependent  territories,  while  democratic 
Athens  propagated  the  democratic  form.  And,  similarly, 
where  Rome  conquered  and  colonized,  there  followed  the 
Roman  municipal  system. 

This  last  instance  reminds  us  that  as  the  character  of  the 
general  government  changes,  the  character  of  the  local  gov- 
ernment changes  too.  In  the  Roman  empire  that  progress 
towards  a  more  concentrated  form  of  rule  which  continued 
militancy  brought,  spread  from  centre  to  periphery.  "  Un- 
der the  Republic  every  town  had,  like  Rome,  a  popular  as- 
sembly which  was  sovereign  for  making  the  law  and  '  creat- 
ing'  magistrates;  "  but  with  the  change  towards  oligarchic 
and  personal  rule  in  Rome,  popular  power  in  the  provinces 
decreased:  "  the  municipal  organization,  from  being  demo- 
cratic, became  aristocratic."  In  France,  as  monarchical  power 
approached  absoluteness,  similar  changes  were  effected  in 
another  way.  The  government  seized  on  municipal  offices, 
'  erecting  them  into  hereditary  offices,  and  .  .  .  selling  them 
at  the  highest  price :  .  .  .  a  permanent  mayor  and  assessors 
Avere  imposed  upon  all  tlie  municipalities  of  the  kingdom, 
which  ceased  to  be  elective;  "  and  then  these  magistrates  be- 
gan to  assume  royal  airs — spoke  of  the  sanctity  of  their  mag- 
istracy, the  veneration  of  the  people,  &e.  Our  own  history 
interestingly  shows  simultaneous  movements  now  towards 
freer,  and  now  towards  less  free,  forms,  locally  and  generally. 


458  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

AVhcn,  under  King  John,  the  central  government  was  liberal- 
ized, towns  acquired  the  power  to  elect  their  own  magistrates. 
Conversely  when,  at  the  Restoration,  monarchical  power 
increased,  there  was  a  framing  of  the  "  municipalities  on  a 
more  oligarchical  model."  And  then  comes  the  familiar  case 
of  the  kindred  liberalizations  of  the  central  government 
and  the  local  governments  which  have  occurred  in  our  own 
time. 

§  511.  From  those  local  governing  agencies  which  have 
acquired  a  political  character,  we  turn  now  to  those  which 
have  retained  the  primitive  family  character.  Though  with 
the  massing  of  groups,  political  organization  and  rule  become 
separate  from,  and  predominant  over,  family-organization 
and  nde,  locally  as  well  as  generally,  yet  family-organization 
and  rule  do  not  disappear;  but  in  some  cases  retaining  their 
original  nature,  in  some  cases  give  origin  to  other  local  or- 
ganizations of  a  governmental  kind.  Let  us  first  note  how 
wide-spread  is  the  presence  of  the  family-cluster,  considered 
as  a  component  of  the  political  society. 

Among  the  uncivilized  Bedouins  we  see  it  existing  sepa- 
rately: "  every  large  family  with  its  relations  constituting  a 
small  tribe  by  itself."  But,  says  Palgrave,  "  though  the  clan 
and  the  family  form  the  basis  and  are  the  ultimate  expres- 
sion of  the  civilized  Arab  society,  they  do  not,  as  is  the  case 
among  the  Bedouins,  sum  it  up  altogether."  That  is,  politi- 
cal union  has  left  outstanding  the  family-organization,  but 
has  added  something  to  it.  And  it  was  thus  with  Semitic 
societies  of  early  days,  as  those  of  the  Hebrews.  Everywhere 
it  has  boon  thus  with  the  Ayrans. 

"The  [Irish]  Sept  is  a  body  of  kinsmen  whose  progenitor  is  no  longer 
living,  but  -whose  descent  from  him  is  a  reality.  ...  An  association  of 
this  sort  is  well  known  to  the  law  of  India  as  the  ,Toint  Undivided 
Family.  .  .  .  The  family  tlnis  formed  by  the  continuance  of  several 
generations  in  \mion.  is  identirni  in  outline  with  a  group  very  familiar 
to  the  students  of  the  older  Roman  law — the  Agnatic  Kindred." 
Kot  oidv  where  descent  in  tlic  ni;dc  line  has  been  established, 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  459 

but  also  where  the  system  of  descent  through  females  contin- 
ues, this  development  of  the  family  into  gens,  phratry,  and 
tribe,  is  found.  It  was  so  mth  such  ancient  American  peo- 
ples, as  those  of  Yucatan,  where,  within  each  town,  tribal 
divisions  were  maintained;  and,  according  to  Mr.  Morgan 
and  Major  Powell,  it  is  still  so  with  such  American  tribes  as 
the  Iroquois  and  the  Wyandottes. 

After  |ts  conclusion  in  a  political  aggregate,  as  before  its 
inclusion,  the  family-group  evolves  a  government  quasi- 
political  in  nature.  According  to  the  type  of  race  and  the 
system  of  descent,  this  family-government  may  be,  as  among 
ancient  Semites  and  Ayrans,  an  unqualified  patriarchal  des- 
potism; or  it  may  be,  as  among  the  Hindoos  at  present,  a 
personal  rule  arising  by  selection  of  a  head  from  the  leading 
family  of  the  group  (a  selection  usually  falling  on  the  eld- 
est) ;  or  it  may  be,  as  in  American  tribes  like  those  mentioned, 
the  government  of  an  elected  council  of  the  gens,  which  elects 
its  chief.  That  is  to  say,  the  triune  structure  which  tends  to 
arise  in  any  incorporated  assembly,  is  traceable  in  the  com- 
pound family-group,  as  in  the  political  group :  the  respective 
components  of  it  being  variously  developed  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  people  and  the  conditions. 

The  government  of  each  aggregate  of  kinsmen  repeats,  on 
a  small  scale,  functions  like  those  of  the  government  of  the 
political  aggTcgate.  As  the  entire  society  revenges  itself  on 
other  such  societies  for  injury  to  its  members,  so  does  the 
family-cluster  revenge  itself  on  other  family-clusters  included 
in  the  same  society.  This  fact  is  too  familiar  to  need  illustra- 
tion; but  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  even  now,  in  parts  of 
Europe  where  the  family-organization  survives,  the  family 
vendettas  persist.  "  L'Albanais  vous  dira  froidement  .  .  . 
Akeni-Dgiak?  avez-vous  du  sang  a  venger  dans  votre  fa- 
mille;  "  and  then,  asking  the  name  of  your  tribe,  he  puts  his 
hand  on  his  pistol.  With  this  obligation  to  take  vengeance 
goes,  of  course,  reciprocal  responsibility.  The  family  in  all 
its  branches  is  liable  as  a  whole,  and  in  each  part,  for  the 


460  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

injuries  done  by  its  members  to  members  of  other  families; 
just  as  the  entire  society  is  held  liable  by  other  entire  socie- 
ties. This  responsibility  holds  not  alone  for  lives  taken  by 
members  of  the  family-group,  but  also  for  damages  they  do 
to  property,  and  for  pecuniary  claims. 

"Dans  les  districts  Albanais  libres,  les  dettes  sont  contract^es  4  terme. 
En  cas  de  non-paiement,  on  a  recours  aux  chefs  de  la  tribu  <lu 
debiteur,  et  si  ceux-ci  refusent  de  faire  droit,  on  arrete  le  premier 
venu  (|ui  appartient  a  cette  tribu,  et  on  Taccable  de  niauvais^raitements 
jusqu'a  ce  qu'il  s'entende  avec  le  v6ritable  d6biteur,  ou  qu'il  paie  lui- 
mfeme  ses  dettes,  risque  a  se  pouvoir  ensuite  devant  les  auciens  de  sa 
tribu  ou  de  poursuivre  i)ar  les  armes  celui  qui  lui  a  valu  ce  dommage." 

And  of  the  old  English  miegth  we  read  that  "  if  any  one  was 
imprisoned  for  theft,  witchcraft,  &c.,  his  kindred  must  pay 
the  fine  .  .  .  and  must  become  surety  for  his  good  conduct 
on  his  release." 

While,  within  the  political  aggregate,  each  compound  fam- 
ily-group thus  stood  towards  other  such  included  groups  in 
quasi-political  relations,  its  government  exercised  internal 
control.  In  the  gens  as  constituted  among  the  American 
peoples  above  named,  there  is  administration  of  affairs  by  its 
council.  The  gentile  divisions  among  historic  peoples  were 
ruled  by  their  patriarchs;  as  are  still  those  of  the  Hindoos 
by  their  chosen  elders.  And  then  besides  this  judicial  or- 
ganization within  the  a.ssemblagc  of  kindred,  there  is  the 
religious  organization,  arising  from  worship  of  a  common  an- 
cestor, Avhich  entails  periodic  joint  observances. 

Thus  the  evidence  shows  us  that  while  the  massing  to- 
gether of  groups  by  war,  has,  for  its  concomitant,  develojv 
ment  of  a  political  organization  wliicli  dominates  over  the 
organizations  of  communities  of  kindred,  yet  these  commu- 
nities of  kindred  long  survive,  and  partially  retain  their  au- 
tonomies and  their  constitutions. 

§  512.  Social  progress,  however,  transforms  them  in  sun- 
dry ways — differentiating  them  into  groups  which  gradually 
lose  their  family-characters.     One  cause  is  cliange  from  the 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  461 

wandering  life  to  tlie  settled  life,  with  the  implied  establish- 
ment of  definite  relations  to  the  land,  and  the  resulting  mul- 
tiplication and  interfusion. 

To  show  that  tliis  process  and  its  consequences  are  general, 
I  may  name  the  calpulli  of  the  ancient  Mexicans,  which. 
"  means  a  district  inhabited  by  a  family  ...  of  ancient 
origin;  "  whose  members  hold  estates  which  "  belong  not  to 
each  inhabitant,  but  to  the  calpulli;  "  who  have  chiefs 
chosen  out  of  the  tribe;  and  who  "  meet  for  dealing  with  the 
common  interests,  and  regulating  the  apportionment  of  taxes, 
and  also  what  concerns  the  festivals."  And  then  I  may 
name  as  ^being  remote  in  place,  time,  and  race,  the  still- 
existing  Russian- mir,  or  village-commune;  which  is  consti- 
tuted by  descendants  of  the  same  family-group  of  nomads 
who  became  settled;  wdiich  is  "  a  judicial  corporation  .  .  . 
proprietor  of  the  soil,  of  which  individual  members  have  but 
the  usufruct  or  temporary  enjoyment;  "  which  is  governed 
by  the  "  heads  of  families,  assembled  in  council  under  the 
presidency  of  the  sfflros^rt  or  mayor,  whom  they  have  elected." 
Just  noting  these  allied  examples,  w^e  maydealmore  especially 
with  the  Teutonic  mark,  which  was  "  formed  by  a  primitive 
settlement  of  a  family  or  kindred,"  when,  as  said  b}^  Cicsar  of 
the  Suevi,  the  land  was  divided  among  "  gentes  et  cogna- 
tiones  hominum."     In  the  w^ords  of  Kenible,  marks  were — 

"Great  family-unions,  comprising  households  of  various  degrees  of 
wealth,  rank,  and  authority;  some  in  direct  descent  from  the  common 
ancestors,  or  from  the  hero  of  the  particular  tribe ;  others,  more  dis- 
tantly connected.  .  .  .  ;  some,  admitted  into  communion  by  marriage, 
others  by  adoption,  others  by  emancipation;  but  all  recognizing  a 
brotherhood,  a  kinsmanship  or  sibsceaft ;  all  standing  together  as  one 
tmit  in  respect  of  other  similar  communities ;  all  governed  by  the  same 
judges  and  led  by  the  same  captains;  all  sharing  in  the  same  religious 
rites;  and  all  known  to  themselves  and  to  their  neighbours  by  one 
general  name." 

To  which  add  that,  in  common  with  family-groups  as  already 
described,  the  cluster  of  kindred  constituting  the  mark  had, 
like  both  smaller  and  larger  clusters,  a  joint  obligation  to 


462  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

defend  aud  avenge  its  members,  and  a  joint  resjDonsibility 
for  their  actions. 

Anil  now  we  are  prepared  for  observing  sundry  iniiucnccs 
which  conspire  to  change  the  gTOuping  of  kindred  into  poli- 
tical grouping,  locally  as  well  as  generally.  In  the  first  place, 
there  is  that  admission  of  strangers  into  the  family,  gens,  or 
tribe,  M'hicli  we  have  before  recognized  as  a  normal  process, 
from  savage  life  upwards.  Livingstone,  remarking  of  the 
Bakwains  that  "the  government  is  patriarchal,  describes 
each  chief  man  as  having  his  hut  encircled  by  the  huts  of  his 
wives,  relatives,  and  dependents,  forming  a  kotla:  "  a  poor 
man  attaches  himself  to  the  kotla  of  a  rich  one  a^d  is  con- 
sidered a  child  of  the  latter."  Here  we  see  being  done  in- 
formally, that  which  was  formally  done  in  the  Roman  house- 
hold and  the  Teutonic  mark.  In  proportion  as  the  adopted 
strangers  increase,  and  in  })roj)ortion  also  as  the  cluster  be- 
comes diluted  hy  incorporating  with  itself  emancijjated  de- 
pendents, the  links  among  its  nunnbers  become  weakened 
and  its  character  altered.  In  the  second  place,  when,  by 
concentration  and  multiplication,  different  clusters  of  kin- 
dred placed  side  by  side,  become  interspersed,  and  there 
ceases  to  be  a  direct  connexion  between  locality  and  kinship, 
the  family  or  gentile  bonds  are  further  weakened.  And 
then  there  eventually  results,  both  for  military  and  fiscal 
purposes,  the  need  for  a  grouping  based  on  locality  instead 
of  on  relationship.  An  early  illustration  is  furnished  by  the 
Kleisthenian  revolution  in  Attica,  which  made  a  division  of 
the  territory  into  denies,  replacing  for  public  purposes  trilial 
divisions  by  topogra]iliical  divisions,  the  inhabitants  of  each 
of  which  had  local  administrative  powers  and  public  resj)on- 
sibilities. 

AVe  are  here  brought  to  the  vexed  question  about  the  origin 
of  tythings  and  hundreds.  It  was  jutintcd  out  that  the 
ancient  Peruvians  had  civil  as  well  as  military  divisions 
into  tens  and  hundreds,  with  their  respective  officers.  In 
China,  where  there  is  pushed  to  an  extreme  the  principle  of 


LOCAL  GOVERXING  AGENCIES.  463 

making  groups  responsible  for  tlieir  members,  tlie  clan-divi- 
sions are  not  acknowledged  bj  the  government,  but  only 
the  tythings  and  hundreds:  the  implication  being  that  these 
last  were  results  of  political  organization  as  distinguished 
from  family-organization.  In  parts  of  Japan,  too,  "'  there 
is  a  sort  of  subordinate  system  of  wards,  and  heads  of  tens 
and  hundreds,  in  the  Otonos  of  towns  and  villages,  severally 
and  collectively  responsible  for  each  other's  good  conduct." 
AVe  have  seen  that  in  Rome,  the  groupings  into  hundreds  and 
tens,  civil  as  well  as  military,  became  political  substitutes  for 
the  gentile  groupings.  Under  the  Frankish  law,  "  the 
tything-man  is  Decanus,  the  hundred-man  Centenarius;  " 
and  whatever  may  have  been  their  indigenous  mimes,  divi- 
sions into  tens  and  hundreds  appear  to  have  had  (judging 
from  the  statements  of  Tacitus)  an  independent  origin  among 
the  Germanic  races. 

And  now  remembering  that  these  hundreds  and  tythings, 
formed  within  the  marks  or  other  large  divisions,  still 
answered  in  considerable  degrees  to  groups  based  on  kinship 
(since  the  heads  of  families  of  which  they  were  constituted  as 
local  groups,  were  ordinarily  closer  akin  to  one  another  than 
to  the  heads  of  families  similarly  grouped  in  other  parts  of 
the  mark),  we  go  on  to  observe  that  there  survived  in  them, 
or  were  re-developed  in  them,  the  family-organization,  rights, 
and  obligations.  I  do  not  mean  merely  that  by  their  hun-' 
dred-moots,  &c.,  they  had  their  internal  administrations; 
but  I  mean  chiefly  that  they  became  groups  which  had 
towards  other  groups  the  same  joint  claims  and  duties  which 
family-groups  had.  R(>s]Jonsibility  for  its  members,  pre- 
viously attaching  exclusively  to  the  cluster  of  kindred  ir- 
respective of  locality,  was  in  a  large  measure  transferred  to 
the  local  cluster  formed  but  partially  of  kindred.  For  this 
transfer  of  responsibility  an  obvious  cause  arose  as  the  gentes 
and  tribes  spread  and  became  mingled.  While  the  family- 
community  was  small  and  closely  aggregated,  an  offence  com- 
mitted by  one  of  its  UKUubers  against  another  sucli  com- 


464  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

imniity  could  usually  be  brought  home  to  it  bodily,  if  not  to 
the  siuuiiig  iiieinber;  and  as  a  whole  it  had  to  take  the  con- 
sequences. But  when  the  faniily-eoniniunity,  niulti})lyiMg, 
began  to  oecui)y  a  wide  area,  and  also  became  interfused  with 
other  faniily-coiiiniunities,  the  transgTessor,  .while  often 
traceable  to  some  one  locality  within  the  area,  was  often  not 
identifiable  as  of  this  or  that  kindred;  and  the  consequences 
of  his  act,  when  they  could  not  be  visited  on  his  family, 
which  was  not  known,  were  apt  to  be  visited  on  tlie  inhab- 
itants of  the  locality,  who  were  known.  Hence  the  genesis 
of  a  system  of  suretyship  which  is  so  ancient  and  so  wide- 
spread.    Here  are  illustrations: — 

"This  then  is  my  will,  that  every  man  be  in  surety,  both  within  the 
towns  and  without  the  towns.'' — Eadg.  ii.  Supp.  §  3. 

"And  we  will  that  every  freeman  be  brought  into  a  hundred  and 
into  a  tithing,  who  desires  to  be  entitled  to  Idd  or  wer,  in  case  any  one 
should  slay  him  after  he  have  reached  the  age  of  xii  years:  or  let  him 
not  otherwise  be  entitled  to  any  free  rights,  be  he  householder,  be  he 
follower." — Cnut,  ii.  §  xx. 

"...  in  all  the  vills  throughout  the  kingdom,  all  men  are  bound  to 
be  in  a  guarantee  by  tens,  so  that  if  one  of  the  ten  men  offend,  the 
other  nine  may  hold  him  to  right." — Edw.  Conf.,  xx. 
Speaking  generally  of  this  system  of  mutual  guarantee,  as 
exhibited  among  the  Russians,  as  well  as  among  the  Franks, 
Koutorga  says — 

"Tout  membre  de  la  soci^'t6  devait  entrer  dans  imc  d<!canie,  laquelle 
avait  pour  mission  la  ddfence  ct  la  garantic  de  tons  en  g6n6ral  et  de 
chacun  en  particulier;  c'esta-dire  que  la  decanie  devait  venger  le 
citoyen  qui  lui  appartenait  et  exiger  le  wehrgeld,  s'il  avait  6t6  tu6; 
mais  en  mfeme  temps  elle  se  portait  caution  pour  tous  les  seins." 

In  brief,  then,  this  form  of  local  governing  agency,  de- 
veloping out  of,  and  partially  replacing,  the  primitive  family- 
form,  was  a  natural  concomitant  of  the  niu](ii)Ii('ation  and 
mixture  resulting  from  a  settled  life. 

§  513.  There  remains  to  be  dealt  with  an  allied  kind  of 
local  governing  agency — a  kin<l  wliicli,  appearing  to  have 
been  once  identical  with  the  last,  eventually  diverged  from  it. 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  465 

Kemble  concludes  that  the  word  ''  gegyldan "  means 
"  those  who  mutually  pay  for  one  another  .  .  .  the  associates 
of  the  tithing  and  the  hundred;  "  and  how  the  two  were 
originally  connected,  we  are  shown  by  the  statement  that  as 
late  as  the  tenth  century  in  London,  the  citizens  were  united 
into  frithgylds,  "  or  associations  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
peace,  each  consisting  of  ten  men;  while  ten  such  gylds 
were  gathered  into  a  hundred."     Prof.  Stubbs  writes: — 

"The  collective  responsibility  for  producing  an  offender,  which  had 
lain  originally  on  the  maegth  or  kindred  of  the  accused,  was  gradually 
devolved  on  the  voluntary  association  of  the  guild ;  and  the  guild 
superseded  by  the  local  responsibility  of  the  tithing." 

Here  we  have  to  ask  whether  there  are  not  grounds  for  con- 
cluding that  this  transfer  of  responsibility  originally  took 
place  through  development  of  the  family-cluster  into  the 
gild,  in  consequence  of  the  gradual  loss  of  the  family-cha- 
racter by  incorporation  of  unrelated  members.  That  we  do 
not  get  evidence  of  this  in  written  records,  is  probably  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  earlier  stages  of  the  change  took  place 
before  records  were  common.  But  we  shall  see  reasons  for 
believing  in  such  earlier  stages  if  we  take  into  accounts  facts 
furnished  by  extinct  societies  and  societies  less  developed 
than  those  of  Europe. 

Of  the  skilled  arts  among  the  Peruvians,  Prescott  re- 
marks:— "  these  occupations,  like  every  other  calling  and 
office  in  Peru,  always  descended  from  father  to  son;  "  and 
Clavigero  says  of  the  Mexicans  "  that  they  perpetuated  the 
arts  in  families  to  the  advantage  of  the  State:  "  the  reason 
Gomara  gives  why  "  the  poor  taught  their  sons  their  own 
trades,"  being  that  "  they  could  do  so  without  expense  " — a 
reason  of  general  application.  Heeren's  researches  into 
ancient  Egyptian  usages,  have  led  him  to  accept  the  state- 
ment of  early  historians,  that  ''  the  son  was  bound  to  carry 
on  the  trade  of  his  father  and  that  alone;  "  and  he  cites  a 
papyrus  referring  to  an  institution  naturally  connected  with 
this  usage — '"  the  guild  or  company  of  curriers  or  leather- 


466  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

dressers."  Tlien  of  the  Greeks,  Herinaun  (ell  us  that  vari- 
ous arts  and  professions  were — 

"peculiar  to  certain  families,  whose  claims  to  an  exclusive  exercise  of 
them  generally  ascended  to  a  fabulous  origin.  We  moreover  find 
'  pupil  and  son '  for  many  successive  generations  designated  by  the 
same  term ;  and  closely  connected  with  the  exclusiveness  and  monop- 
oly of  many  professions,  is  the  little  resiiect  in  which  they  were,  in 
some  instances,  held  by  the  rest  of  the  people :  a  circumstance  which 
Greek  authors  themselves  compare  with  the  jjrejudice  of  caste  jjreva- 
lent  among  other  nations." 

China,  as  at  present  existing,  yields  evidence : — 
"  The  jiopular  associations  in  cities  and  towns  are  chiefly  based  upon  a 
community  of  interests,  resulting  cither  from  a  similarity  of  occupa- 
tion, when  the  leading  persons  of  the  same  calling  form  themselves 
into  guilds,  or  from  the  municipal  regulations  requiring  the  house- 
holders living  in  the  same  street  to  unite  to  maintain  a  police,  and 
keep  the  peace  of  their  division.  Each  guild  has  an  assembly-hall, 
where  its  members  meet  to  hold  the  festival  of  their  patron  saint." 
And,  as  I  learn  from  the  Japanese  minister,  a  kindred  state  of 
things  once  existed  in  Japan.  Children  hahitiially  followed 
the  occupations  of  their  parents;  in  course  of  generations 
there  resulted  clusters  of  relatives  engaged  in  the. same  trade; 
and  these  clusters  developed  regulative  arrangements  within 
themselves.  Whether  the  fact  that  in  Japan,  as  in  the  East 
generally,  the  clustering  of  traders  of  one  kind  in  the  same 
street,  arises  from  the  original  clustering  of  the  similarly- 
occupied  kindred,  I  find  no  evidence;  but  since,  in  early 
times,  mutual  protection  of  the  members  of  a  trading  kin- 
jdred,  as  of  other  kindred,  was  needful,  this  seems  probable. 
Further  evidence  of  like  meaning  may  be  disentangled  from 
the  involved  phenomena  of  caste  in  India.  In  Xo.  C^XLII  of 
the  Calcutta  Review,  in  an  interesting  essay  by  Jogendra 
Chandra  Ghosh,  caste  is  regarded  as  "  a  natural  development 
of  tlio  Indian  village-coniniunities;  "  as  "  distinguished  not 
only  l.y  the  autonomy  of  each  guild,"  ''  but  by  the  mutual 
relations  between  these  autonomous  guilds;  "  and  as  being 
so  internally  organized  "  that  caste  government  does  not 
recognize  the  finding  or  the  verdict  of  any  court  other  than 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  467 

what  forms  part  of  itself."  In  answer  to  my  inquiries,  the 
writer  of  this  essay  has  given  me  a  mass  of  detailed  informa- 
tion, from  which  I  extract  the  following : — 
"A  Hindoo  joint  family  signifies  (1)  that  the  members  all  mess  to- 
gether ;  (2)  and  live  in  the  same  house ;  (3j  that  the  male  members 
and  unmarried  girls  are  descended  from  a  common  ancestor;  and  (4) 
that  the  male  members  put  their  incomes  together.  .  .  .  The  integral 
character  of  the  family  is  destroyed  when  the  joint  mess  and  common 
purse  cease  to  exist.  However,  the  branches  thus  disunited  continue 
to  observe  certain  close  relations  as  gnatis  up  to  some  seven  or  four- 
teen generations  from  the  common  ancestor.  Beyond  that  limit  they 
are  said  to  be  merely  of  the  same  gotra." 

Passing  over  the  detailed  constitution  of  a  caste  as  consist- 
ing of  many  such  gotras,  and  of  the  groups  produced  by  their 
intermarriages  under  restrictions  of  exogamy  of  the  gotras 
and  endogamy  of  the  caste — passing  over  the  feasts,  sacrifi- 
cial and  other,  held  among  members  of  the  joint  family-  when 
their  groups  have  separated;  I  turn  to  the  facts  of  chief  sig- 
nificance. Though,  under  English  rule,  inheritance  of  occu- 
pation is  no  longer  so  rigorous,  yet — 

"the  principle  is  universally  recognized  that  every  caste  is  bound  to 
follow  a  particular  occupation  and  no  other.  .  .  .  The  partition  of  the 
land,  or  the  house  as  well,  is  governed  by  the  law  of  equal  succession ; 
and  as  fresh  branches  set  up  new  houses,  they  are  found  all  clustered 
together,  with  the  smallest  space  between  them  for  roadway.  .  ,  .  But 
when,  as  in  bazaars,  men  take  up  houses  for  commercial  purposes,  the 
clustering  is  •governed  either  by  family  and  caste-relations,  or  by 
common  avocations  [which  imjily  some  caste-kinship]  and  facility  of 
finding  customers. 

In  which  facts  we  may  see  pretty  clearly  that  were  there 
none  of  the  complications  consequent  on  the  intermarriage 
regulations,  there  would  simply  result  groups  united  by  oc- 
cupation as  well  as  by  ancestry,  clustering  together,  and  hav- 
ing their  internal  governments. 

Returning  from  consideration  of  these  facts  supplied  by 
other  societies,  let  us  now  observe  how  numerous  are  the 
reasons  for  concluding  that  the  gild,  familiar  to  us  as  a 
union  of  similarly-occupied  workers,  was  originally  a  union 
of  kindred.     In  the  ]iriiiiitive  compound  family  there  was 


468  rOLlTICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Avorsliip  of  the  conimoii  ancestor;  and  the  periodic  sacrificial 
feasts  were  occasions  on  which  all  the  descendants  assem- 
bled.    Describing  the  origin  of  gilds,  Thierry  writes: — 

"  Dans  I'ancienne  Scandinavie,  ceux  qui  se  r^unissaient  aux  6poques 
solennelles  pour  sacrifier  ensemble  terminaicnt  la  c6r6mouie  par  un 
festin  religieux.  Assis  autour  du  feu  et  de  la  chaudi^re  du  sacritice,  ils 
buvaient  a  la  ronde  et  vidaient  successivement  trois  cornes  remplies  de 
bi^re,  Tune  pour  les  dieux,  Tautre  pour  les  braves  du  vieux  temps,  et  la 
troisi^me  pour  les  parents  et  les  amis  dont  les  tombes,  marquees  par  des 
monticules  de  gazon,  se  voyaient  fa  et  la  dans  la  plaine ;  on  appelait 
celle-ci  la  coupe  de  Tamiti^.  Le  nom  d'amitie  (minne)  se  doimait 
aussi  quelquefois  a  la  reunion  de  ceux  qui  offraient  en  commun  le 
sacrifice,  et,  d'ordiuaire,  cette  reunion  6tait  appelee  ghilde.'''' 
And  Brentano,  giving  a  similar  account,  says — "  '  Gild  ' 
meant  originally  the  sacrificial  meal  made  up  of  the  common 
contributions;  then  a  sacrificial  banquet  in  general;  and 
lastly  a  society."  Here  we  find  a  parallelism  with  the  ob- 
servances of  the  Hindoo  joint-family,  consisting  of  clusters  of 
relatives  carrying  on  the  same  occupation,  who  meet  at  feasts 
which  were  primarily  sacrificial  to  ancestors;  and  we  find  a 
parallelism  with  the  religious  observances  of  such  clusters 
of  similarly-occupied  relatives  as  the  Asklepiadaj  among  the 
Greeks;  and  Ave  find  a  parallelism  with  the  gild-feasts  of  the 
ancestor-worshipping  Chinese,  held  in  honour  of  the  patron 
saint :  all  suggesting  the  origin  of  those  religious  services  and 
feasts  habitual  in  early  gilds  of  our  own  society..  To 

state  briefly  the  further  likenesses  of  nature: — We  have, 
in  the  primitive  compomid  family,  the  obligation  of  blood- 
revenge  for  slain  relatives;  and  in  early  gilds,  as  in  ancient 
Sleswig,  there  was  blood-revenge  for  members  of  the 
gild.  We  have,  in  the  compound  family,  responsibility 
for  transgressions  of  its  members;  and  gilds  were  similarly 
responsible:  the  wergylds  falling  in  part  on  them,  after 
murders  were  compounded  for  by  money.  We  have,  in 
the  compound  family,  joint  claims  to  sustenance  derived 
from  the  common  property  and  labour;  and  in  the  gild  we 
have  the  duty  of  maintaining  ineapable  members.  AVitli- 
in  the  family  there  was  control  of  j)rivate  conduct,  either 


LOCAL  go\t:rning  agencies.  469 

by  a  despotic  head  or  by  a  council,  as  there  is  now  within  the 
local  clusters  of  the  Hindoo  castes;  and  in  like  manner  the 
ordinances  of  gilds  extended  to  the  regulation  of  personal 
habits.  Lastly,  this  family  or  caste  government,  as  still 
shown  us  in  India,  includes  in  its  punishments  excommuni- 
cation; and  so,  too,  was  there  outlawry  from  the  gild.* 

It  is  inferable,  then,  that  the  gild  was  evolved  from  the 
family.  Continuance  of  a  business,  art,  or  profession,  among 
descendants,  is,  in  early  stages,  almost  inevitable.  Acquisi- 
tion of  skill  in  it  by  early  practice  is  easy ;  the  cost  of  teaching 
is  inappreciable;  and  retention  of  the  "  craft  "  or  "  mystery  " 
within  the  family  is  desirable:  there  being  also  the  reason 
that  while  family-groups  are  in  antagonism,  the  teaching  of 
one  another's  members  cannot  usually  be  practicable.  But 
in  course  of  time  there  come  into  play  influences  by  which 
the  character  of  the  gild  as  an  assemblage  of  kindred  is 
obscured.  Adoption,  which,  as  repeatedly  pointed  out,  is 
practised  by  groups  of  all  kinds,  needs  but  to  become  com- 
mon to  cause  this  constitutional  change.  We  have  seen  that 
among  the  Greeks,  "  pupil  "  and  "  son  "  had  the  same  name. 
At  the  present  time  in  Japan,  an  apprentice,  standing  in  the 
position  of  son  to  his  master,  calls  him  "  father;  "  and  in  our 
own  craft-gilds  "  the  apprentice  became  a  member  of  the 
family  of  his  master,  who  instructed  him  in  his  trade,  and 
who,  like  a  father,  had  to  watch  over  his  morals,  as  well 
as  his  work."  The  eventual  admission  of  the  apprentice 
into  the  gild,  when  he  was  a  stranger  in  blood  to  its  mem- 
bers, qualified,  in  so  far,  its  original  nature;  and  where, 
through  successive  generations,  the  trade  was  a  prosperous 

*  A  friend  who  has  road  this  chapter  in  proof,  points  ont  to  me  pas- 
sages in  which  Rrentano  draws  from  these  parallelisms  a  like  inference. 
Referring  to  the  traits  of  certain  fully-develoi)ed  fjilds,  he  says  : — "  Tf  we 
connect  them  with  what  historians  relate  about  the  family  in  those  days, 
we  may  still  reco^^nize  in  them  the  perm  from  which,  in  later  times,  at  a 
certain  stage  of  civilization,  the  Gild  had  necessarily  to  develop  itself 
.  .  .  the  family  appears  as  the  pattern  and  original  type,  after  which  all 
the  later  Gilds  were  formed." 


470  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

one,  tempting  masters  to  get  more  help  than  their  own  sons 
could  furnish,  this  process  would  slowly  bring  about  predomi- 
nance of  the  unrelated  members,  and  an  ultimate  loss  of  the 
f ami l_v -character.  After  which  it  W(.)uld  naturally  happen 
that  the  growing  up  of  new  settlements  and  towns,  bringing 
together  iunnigrants  who  followed  the  same  calling  but  were 
not  of  the  same  blood,  would  lead  to  the  deliberate  fonna- 
tion  of  gilds  after  the  pattern  of  those  existing  in  older 
places:  an  appearance  of  artilicial  origin  being  the  result; 
just  as  now,  in  our  colonies,  there  is  an  apparently  artificial 
origin  of  political  institutions  which  yet,  as  being  fashionetl 
like  those  of  the  mother-country,  where  they  were  slowly 
evolved,  are  traceable  to  a  natural  origin. 

Any  one  who  doubts  the  transformation  indicated,  may  be 
reminded  of  a  much  greater  transformation  of  allied  kind. 
The  gilds  of  London, — goldsmiths',  fishmongers',  and  the 
rest, — were  originally  composed  of  men  carrying  on  the 
trades  implied  by  their  names;  but  in  each  of  these  com- 
panies the  inclusion  of  persons  of  other  trades,  or  of  no  trade, 
has  gone  to  the  extent  that  few  if  any  of  the  members  carry 
on  the  trades  which  their  mend)crslii})s  imply.  If,  tlien, 
the  j^rocess  of  adoption  in  this  later  form,  has  so  changed 
the  gild  that,  while  retaining  its  identity,  it  has  lost  its  dis- 
tinctive trade-character,  we  are  warranted  in  concluding  that 
still  more  readily  might  the  earlier  process  of  adoption  into 
the  simple  family  or  the  compound  family  practising  any 
craft,  eventually  change  the  gild  from  a  cluster  of  kindred 
to  a  cluster  formed  chiefly  of  unrelated  persons. 

§  514.  Involved  and  obscure  as  the  process  has  been,  the 
evolution  of  local  governing  agencies  is  tlius  fairly  compre- 
hojisible.  "We  divide  them  into  two  kinds,  which,  starting 
from  a  connnon  root,  have  diverged  as  fast  as  small  societies 
have  boon  integrated  into  large  ones. 

Through  successive  stages  of  consolidation,  the  jtolifical 
heads  of  the  once-separate  parts  pass  from  indepondonco  to 


LOCAL  GOVERNING  AGENCIES.  471 

dependence,  and  end  in  being  provincial  agents — first  par- 
tially-conquered chiefs  paying  tribute ;  then  fully -conquered 
chiefs  governing  under  command ;  then  local  governors  who 
are  appointed  by  the  central  governor  and  hold  power  under 
approval:  becoming  eventually  executive  officers. 

There  is  habitually  a  kinship  in  character  between  the 
controlling  systems  of  the  parts  and  the  controlling  system 
of  the  whole  (assuming  unity  of  race),  consequent  .on  the 
fact  that  both  are  ultimately  products  of  the  same  individual 
nature.  AVith  a  central  despotism  there  goes  local  despotic 
rule;  with  a  freer  fonn  of  the  major  government  there  goes 
a  freer  form  of  the  minor  governments ;  and  a  change  either 
way  in  the  one  is  followed  by  a  kindred  change  in  the 
other. 

While,  with  the  compounding  of  small  societies  into  large 
ones,  the  political  ruling  agencies  which  develop  locally  as 
well  as  generally,  become  separate  from,  and  predominant 
over,  the  ruling  agencies  of  family  origin,  these  last  do  not 
disappear ;  but,  surviving  in  their  first  forms,  also  give  origin 
to  differentiated  forms.  The  assemblage  of  kindred  long 
continues  to  have  a  qualified  semi-political  autonomy,  with 
internal  government  and  external  obligations  and  claims. 
And  while  family-clusters,  losing  their  definiteness  by  inter- 
fusion, slowly  lose  their  traits  as  separate  independent  socie- 
ties, there  descend  from  them  clusters  which,  in  some  cases 
united  chiefly  by  locality  and  in  others  chiefly  by  occupa- 
tion, inherit  their  traits,  and  constitute  governing  agencies 
supplementing  the  purely  political  ones. 

It  may  be  added  that  these  supplementary  governing 
agencies,  proper  to  the  militant  t}^e  of  society,  dissolve  as 
the  industrial  type  begins  to  predominate.  Defending  their 
members,  held  responsible  for  the  transgressions  of  their 
members,  and  exercising  coercion  over  their  members,  they 
are  made  needful  by,  and  bear  the  traits  of,  a  regime  of 
chronic  antagonisms;  and  as  these  die  away  their  raison 
cVetre  disappears.     Moreover,  artificially  restricting,  as  they 


472  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

do,  the  actions  of  eacli  member,  and  also  making  him  re- 
sponsible for  other  deeds  than  his  own,  they  are  at  variance 
■with  that  increasing  assertion  of  individuality  which  accom- 
panies developing  industrialism. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MILITARY    SYSTEMS. 

§  515.  Indirectly,  miicli  has  already  been  said  concerning 
the  subject  now  to  be  dealt  with.  Originally  identical  as  is 
the  political  organization  with  the  military  organization,  it 
has  been  impossible  to  treat  of  the  first  without  touching  on 
the  second.  After  exhibiting  the  facts  under  one  aspect  we 
have  here  to  exhibit  another  aspect  of  them ;  and  at  the  same 
time  to  bring  into  view  classes  of  related  facts  thus  far  unob- 
served. But,  first,  let  us  dwell  a  moment  on  the  alleged 
original  identity. 

In  rude  societies  all  adult  males  are  warriors;  and,  conse- 
quently, the  army  is  the  mobilized  community,  and  the  com- 
munity is  the  army  at  rest,  as  was  remarked  in  §  259. 

With  this  general  truth  we  may  join  the  general  truth 
that  the  primitive  military  gathering  is  also  the  primitive  poli- 
tical gathering.  Alike  in  savage  tribes  and  in  communities 
like  those  of  our  rude  ancestors,  the  assemblies  which  are 
summoned  for  purposes  of  defence  and  offence,  are  the  as- 
semblies in  which  public  questions  at  large  are  decided. 

Next  stands  the  fact,  so  often  named,  that  in  the  normal 

course  of  social  evolution,  the  military  head  grows  into  the 

political  head.     This  double  character  of  leading  warrior  and 

civil  ruler,  early  arising,  ordinarily  continues  through  long 

stages;  and  where,  as  not  unfrequently  happens,  military 

headship  becomes  in   a   measure  separated   from   political 

473 


474  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

headship,  continued  warfare  is  apt  to  eansc  a  re-identifica- 
tion of  thcni. 

As  societies  become  coniponiftled  and  rc-coniponnded,  coin- 
cidence of  military  authority  with  political  authority  is  shown 
in  detail  as  well  as  in  general — in  the  parts  as  in  the  whole. 
The  minor  war-chiefs  are  also  minor  civil  rulers  in  their  sev- 
eral localities;  and  the  commanding  of  their  respective 
gTOups  of  soldiers  in  the  field,  is  of  like  nature  with  the  gov- 
erning of  their  respective  groups  of  dependents  at  home. 

Once  more,  there  is  the  general  fact  that  the  economic  or- 
ganizations of  primitive  communities,  coincide  with  their 
military  organizations.  In  savage  tribes  war  and  hunting 
are  carried  on  by  the  same  men;  while  their  wives  (and  their 
slaves  where  they  have  any)  do  the  drudgery  of  domestic 
life.  And,,  similarly^  in  rude  societies  that  have  become 
settled,  the  military  unit  and  the  economic  unit  are  the  same. 
The  soldier  is  also  the  landowner. 

Such,  then,  being  the  primitive  identity  of  the  political 
organization  with  military  organization,  we  have  in  this  chap- 
ter to  note  the  ways  in  which  the  two  differentiate. 

§  516.  We  may  most  conveniently  initiate  the  inquiry  by 
observing  the  change  which,  during  social  evolution,  takes 
place  in  the  incidence  of  military  obligations;  and  by  recog- 
nizing the  accompanying  separation  of  the  fighting  body 
from  the  rest  of  the  community. 

Though  there  are  some  tribes  in  wdiich  military  service 
(for  aggressive  war  at  any  rate)  is  not  compulsory,  as  the  Co- 
manches,  Dakotas,  Chippewas,  whose  war-chiefs  go  about  en- 
listing volunteers  for  their  expeditions;  yet  habitually  where 
political  subordination  is  established,  every  man  not  privately 
possessed  as  a  chattel  is  bound  to  fight  when  called  on.  There 
have  been,  and  are,  some  societies  of  considerably-advanced 
structures  in  which  this  state  of  things  continues.  In  ancient 
Peru  the  common  men  were  all  either  actually  in  the  army  or 
formed  a  reserve  occupied  in  labour;  and  in  modern  Siam 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  475 

the  people  "  are  all  s(^diers,  and  owe  six  months'  service 
yearly  to  their  prince."  But.  usually,  social  progress  is  ac- 
companied by  a  narrowed  incidence  of  military  obligation. 

When  the  enslavement  of  captives  is  followed  by  the  rear- 
ing of  their  children  as  slaves,  as  well  as  by  the  consigning 
of  criminals  and  debtors  to  slavery — when,  as  in  some  cases, 
there  is  joined  with  the  slave-class  a  serf-class  composed  of 
subjugated  people  not  detached  from  their  homes;  the  com- 
munity becomes  divided  into  two  parts,  on  one  of  which  only 
does  military  duty  fall.  Whereas,  in  previous  stages,  the 
division  of  the  whole  society  had  been  into  men  as  fighters 
and  women  as  workers,  the  division  of  w^orkers  now  begins  to 
include  men;  and  these  continue  to  form  an  increasing  part 
of  the  total  male  population.  Though  w^e  are  told  that  in 
Ashantee  (where  everyone  is  in  fact  owned  by  the  king)  the 
slave-population  "  principally  constitutes  the  military  force," 
and  that  in. Kabbah  (among  the  Fulahs)  the  army  is  com- 
posed of  slaves  liberated  "  on  consideration  of  their  taking  up 
arms;  "  ^Tt,  generally,  those  in  bondage  are  not  liable  to 
militaiy  service:  the  causes  being  partly  distrust  of  them 
(as  was  shown  among  the  Spartans  when  forced  to  employ  the 
helots)  partly  contempt  for  them  as  defeated  men  or  the  oif- 
spring  of  defeated  men,  and  partly  a  desire  to  devolve  on 
others,  labours  at  once  necessary  and  repugnant.  Causes 
aside,  however,  the  evidence  proves  that  the  army  at  this  early 
stage  usually  coincides  with  the  body  of  freemen;  who  are 
also  the  body  of  landowners.  This,  as  before  shown  in  §  458, 
was  the  case  in  Egypt,  Greece,  Rome,  and  Germany.  How 
natural  is  this  incidence  of  militaiy  obligation,  we  see  in  the 
facts  that  in  ancient  Japan  and  mediaeval  India,  there  were 
systems  of  military  tenure  like  that  of  the  middle  ages  in 
Europe;  and  that  a  kindred  connexion  had  arisen  even  in 
societies  like  those  of  Tahiti  and  Samoa. 

Extent  of  estate  being  a  measure  of  its  owner's  ability 
to  bear  burdens,  there  grows  up  a  connexion  between 
the  amount  of  land  hold  and  the  amount  of  militarv  aid 


476  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

to  be  rendered.  Thus  in  Greece  under  Solon,  those  whose 
properties  yielded  less  than  a  certain  revenue  were  exempt 
from  duty  iis  soldiers,  save  in  emergencies.  In  Rome,  with 
a  view  to  better  adjustment  of  the  relation  between  means 
and  requirements,  there  was  a  periodic  "  revision  of  the  reg- 
ister of  landed  property,  which  was  at  the  same  time  the  levy- 
roll."  Throughout  the  middle  ages  this  principle  was  acted 
upon  by  proportioning  the  numbers  of  warriors  demanded  to 
the  sizes  of  the  iiefs;  and  again,  afterwards,  by  requiring 
from  parishes  their  respective  contingents. 

A  dissociation  of  military  duty  from  landownership  be- 
gins when  land  ceases  to  be  the  only  source  of  wealth.  The 
growth  of  a  class  of  free  workers,  accumulating  property  by 
trade,  is  followed  by  the  imposing  on  them,  also,  of  obliga- 
tions to  fight  or  to  provide  fighters.  Though,  as  apparently 
in  the  cases  of  Greece  and  Rome,  the  possessions  in  virtue 
of  which  citizens  of  this  order  at  first  becomQ  liable,  are 
lands  in  which  they  have  invested;  yet,  at  later  stages,  they 
become  liable  as  possessors  of  other  property.  Such,  at  least, 
is  the  interpretation  we  may  give  to  the  practice  of  making 
industrial  populations  furnish  their  specified  numbers  of  war- 
riors; whether,  as  during  the  Roman  conquests,  it  took  the 
shape  of  requiring  "  rich  and  populous  "  towns  to  maintain 
cohorts  of  infantry  or  divisions  of  cavalr}',  or  whether,  as  with 
chartered  towns  in  mcdia3val  days,  there  was  a  contract  with 
the  king  as  suzerain,  to  supply  him  with  stated  numbers  of 
men  duly  armed. 

Later  on,  the  same  cause  initiates  a  further  change.  As 
fast  as  industry  increases  the  relative  quantity  of  trans- 
ferable property,  it  becomes  more  easy  to  compound  for 
service  in  war;  either  by  providing  a  deputy  or  by  paying  to 
the  ruler  a  sum  which  enables  him  to  jirovide  one.  Origi- 
nally the  penalty  for  non-fulfilment  of  military  obligation 
was  loss  of  lands;  then  a  heavy  fine,  which,  once  accepted, 
it  became  more  frequently  the  custom  to  bear;  then  an 
habitual  compounding  for  the  special  services  demanded; 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  477 

then  a  lev^-iug  of  dues,  sucli  as  those  called  scutages,  in  place 
of  special  compositions.  Evidently,  industrial  growth  made 
this  change  possible;  both  bv  mcreasing  the  population  from 
which  the  required  numbers  of  substitutes  could  be  obtained, 
and  by  producing  the  needful  floating  capital. 

So  that  whereas  in  savage  and  semi-civilized  communities 
of  warlike  kinds,  the  incidence  of  military  obligation  is  such 
that  each  free  man  has  to  serve  personally,  and  also  to  pro- 
vide his  own  arms  and  provisions;  the  progTCss  from  this 
state  in  which  industry  does  but  occupy  the  intervals  be- 
tween wars  to  a  state  in  which  war  does  but  occasionally 
break  the  habitual  industry,  brings  an  increasing  dissociation 
of  militar}'  obligation  from  free  citizenship :  military  obliga- 
tion at  the  same  time  tending  to  become  a  pecuniary  burden 
levied  in  proportion  to  property  of  whatever  kind.  Though 
where  there  is  a  conscription,  j)ersonal  service  is  theoretically 
due  from  each  on  whom  the  lot  falls,  yet  the  ability  to  buy  a 
substitute  brings  the  obligation  back  to  a  pecuniary  one. 
And  though  we  have  an  instance  in  our  own  day  of  uni- 
versal military  obligation  not  thus  to  be  compounded  for,  we 
see  that  it  is  part  of  a  reversion  to  the  condition  of  pre- 
dominant militancy. 

§  517.  An  aspect  of  this  change  not  yet  noted,  is  the 
simultaneous  decrease  in  the  ratio  which  the  fighting  part  of 
the  community  bears  to  the  rest.  With  the  transition  from 
nomadic  habits  to  settled  habits,  there  begins  an  economic  re- 
sistance to  militant  action,  which  increases  as  industrial  life 
develops,  and  diminishes  the  relative  size  of  the  military  body. 

Though  in  tribes  of  hunters  the  men  are  as  ready  for  war 
at  one  time  as  at  another,  yet  in  agricultural  societies  there 
obviously  exists  an  impediment  to  unceasing  warfare.  In 
the  exceptional  case  of  the  Spartans,  the  carrying  on  of  rural 
industry  was  not  allowed  to  prevent  daily  occupation  of  all 
freemen  in  warlike  exercises;  but,  speaking  generally,  the 
sowing  and  reaping  of  crops  hinder  the  gathering  together 


478  POLITTCAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

of  freemen  for  offensive  or  defensive  purposes.  Hence  in 
course  of  time  come  decreased  calls  on  them.  The  ancient 
Siicvi  divided  themselves  so  as  alternately  to  share  war-duties 
and  farm-work:  each  season  the  active  warriors  returned 
to  till  the  land,  while  their  places  were  "  supplied  by  the 
hiishaiidiuen  of  the  previous  year."  Alfred  established  in 
England  a  kindred  alternation  between  military  service  and 
cultivation  of  the  soil.  In  feudal  times,  again,  the  same 
tendency  was  shown  by  restrictions  on  the  duration  and 
amount  of  the  armed  aid  which  a  feudal  tenant  and  his  re- 
tainers had  to  give — now  for  sixty,  for  forty,  for  twenty 
days,  down  even  to  four;  now  alone,  and  again  with  specified 
numbers  of  followers;  here  without  limit  of  distance,  and 
there  within  the  bounds  of  a  county.  Doubtless,  insubordin- 
ation often  cauocd  resistances  to  service,  and  consequent  limi- 
tations of  this  kind.  But  manifestly,  absorption  of  the  ener- 
gies in  industry,  directly  and  indirectly  antagonized  militant 
action;  with  the  result  that  separation  of  the  fighting  body 
from  the  general  body  of  citizens  was  accompanied  by  a  de- 
crease in  its  relative  mass. 

There  are  two  cooperating  causes  for  this  decrease  of  its 
relative  mass,  which  are  of  much  sigiiificance.  One  is  the 
increasing  costliness  of  the  soldier,  and  of  war  appliances, 
which  goes  along  with  that  social  progress  made  ]iossible  by 
industrial  growth.  In  the  savage  state  each  warrior  provides 
his  own  weapons;  and,  on  war  excursions,  depends  on  himself 
for  sustenance.  At  a  higher  stage  this  ceases  to  be  the  case. 
When  chariots  of  war,  and  armour,  and  siege-implements 
come  to  be  used,  there  are  presupposed  sundry  specialized  and 
skilled  artizan-classes;  iiViplying  a  higher  ratio  of  the  indus- 
trial part  of  the  community  to  the  militant  part.  And  when, 
later  on,  there  arc  introduced  fire-arms,  artillery,  ironclads, 
torpedoes,  and  the  like,  we  see  that  there  must  co-exist  a 
large  and  highly-organized  body  of  producers  and  distribu- 
tors; alike  to  furnish  the  re(iuircd  powers  and  bear  the  en- 
tailed cost.     That  is  to  say,  the  war-machinery,  both  living 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  479 

and  dead,  cannot  be  raised  in  efficiency  without  lowering  the 
ratio  it  bears  to  those  sustaining  structures  which  give  it 
efficiency. 

The  other  cooperating  cause  which  simultaneously  comes 
into  play,  is  directly  due  to  the  compounding  and  re-com- 
pounding of  societies.  The  larger  nations  become,  and  the 
greater  tlie  distances  over  which  their  military  actions  range, 
the  more  expensive  do  those  actions  grow.  It  is  with  an 
army  as  with  a  limb,  the  effort  to  put  forth  is  costly  in  propor- 
tion to  the  remoteness  of  the  acting  parts  from  the  base  of 
operations.  Though  it  is  true  that  a  body  of  victorious  in- 
vaders may  raise  some,  or  the  whole,  of  its  supplies  from  the 
conquered  society,  yet  before  it  has  effected  conquest  it  can- 
not do  thjs,  but  is  dependent  for  maintenance  on  its  own 
society,  of  which  it  then  forms  an  integral  part:  where  it 
ceases  to  form  an  integral  part  and  wanders  far  away,  living 
on  spoils,  like  Tartar  hordes  in  past  ages,  we  are  no  longer 
dealing  Avith  social  organization  and  its  laws,  but  with  social 
destruction.  Limiting  ourselves  to  societies  which,  per- 
manently localized,  preserve  their  individualities,  it  is  clear 
that  the  larger  the  integrations  formed,  the  gTeater  is  the 
social  strain  consequent  on  the  distances  at  which  fighting  has 
to  be  done ;  and  the  greater  the  amount  of  industrial  popula- 
tion required  to  bear  the  strain.  Doubtless,  improved  means 
of  communication  may  all  at  once  alter  the  ratio;  but  this 
does  not  conffict  with  the  proposition  when  qualified  by  say- 
ing— other  things  equal. 

In  three  ways,  therefore,  does  settled  life,  and  the  develo]> 
ment  of  civilization,  so  increase  the  economic  resistance  to 
militant  action,  as  to  cause  decrease  of  the  ratio  borne  by  the 
militant  part  to  ihe  non-militant  part. 

§  518.  With  those  changes  in  the  incidence  of  military 
obligation  whicli  tend  to  separate  the  body  of  soldiers 
from  the  body  of  Avorkcrs,  and  with  those  other  changes 
wliich  tend  to  diiiiinisli  its  relative  size,  there  ao  chani2:es 


480  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

wlik'li  tend  to  differentiate  it  in  a  further  way.  The  first  of 
these  to  be  noted  is  the  parting  of  military  headship  from 
political  headship. 

We  have  seen  that  the  commencement  of  social  organiza- 
tion is  the  gTowth  of  the  leading  warrior  into  the  civil  gov- 
ernor. To  illustrative  facts  before  named  may  be  added  the 
fact  that  an  old  English  ruler,  as  instance  Hengist,  was  orig- 
inally called  "  Here-toga  " — literally  army-leader;  and  the 
office  developed  into  that  of  king  only  after  settlement  in 
Britain.  But  with  establishment  of  hereditary  succession  to 
political  headship,  there  comes  into  play  an  influence  which 
tends  to  make  the  chief  of  the  State  distinct  from  the  chief  of 
the  army.  That  antagonism  between  the  principle  of  in- 
heritance and  the  principle  of  efficiency,  everywhere  at  work, 
'has  from  the  beginning  been  conspicuous  in  this  relation, 
because  of  the  imperative  need  for  efficient  generalship. 
,  Often,  as  shown  in  §  473,  there  is  an  endeavour  to  unite  the 
two  qualifications;  as,  for  example,  in  ancient  Mexico,  wliere 
the  king,  before  being  crowned,  had  to  fill  successfully  the 
position  of  commander-in-chief.  But  from  quite  early  stages 
we  find  that  where  hereditary  succession  has  been  establislied, 
and  there  does  not  happen  to  be  inheritance  of  military  capac- 
ity along  with  political  supremacy,  it  is  common  for  hcad- 
sliip  of  tlie  warriors  to  become  a  separate  post  filled  by  elec- 
tion. Says  Waitz,  "  among  the  Guaranis  the  chieftainship 
generally  goes  from  father  to  first-born  son.  The  leader  in 
war  is,  however,  elected."  In  Ancient  Nicaragua  '*  the  war- 
chief  was  elected  by  the  warriors  to  lead  them,  on  account  of 
his  ability  and  bravery  in  battle;  but  the  civil  or  hereditary 
chief  often  accompanies  the  army."  Of  the  New  Zealanders 
we  read  that  "  hereditary  chiefs  were  generally  the  leaders," 
but  not  always:  others  being  chosen  on  account  of  bravery. 
And  among  the  Sakarran  Dyaks  there  is  n  war-chief,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  ordinary  chief.  In  the  case  of  the  Bedouins  the 
original  motive  has  been  defeated  in  a  curiona  way. 
"During  a  campaign  in  actunl  warfare,  the  authoritj^  of  the  sheikh 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  481 

of  the  tribe  is  completely  set  aside,  and  the  soldiers  are  wholly  uuder 
the  command  of  the  agyd.  .  .  ,  The  office  of  agyd  is  hereditary  in  a 
certain  family,  from  father  to  son;  and  the  Arabs  submit  to  the  com- 
mands of  an  agyd,  whom  they  know  to  be  deficient  both  in  bravery 
and  judgment,  rather  than  yield  to  the  orders  of  their  sheikh  during 
the  actual  expedition ;  for  they  say  that  exj)editions  headed  by  the 
sheikh,  are  always  unsuccessful." 

It  should  be  added  that  in  some  cases  we  see  coming  into 
play  further  motives.  Forster  tells  us  that  in  Tahiti  the 
king  sometimes  resigiis  the  post  of  commander-in-chief  of  the 
fighting  force,  to  one  of  his  chiefs:  conscious  either  of  his 
own  unfitness  or  desirous  of  avoiding  danger.  And  then  in 
some  cases  the  anxiety  of  subjects  to  escape  the  evils  follow- 
ing loss  of  the  political  head,  leads  to  this  separation;  as 
when,  among  the  Hebrews,  "  the  men  of  David  sware  unto 
him,  saying,  Thou  shalt  go  no  more  out  with  us  to  battle,* 
that  thou  quench,  not  the  light  of  Israel;  "  or  as  when,  in 
France  in  923,  the  king  was  besought  by  the  ecclesiastics  and 
nobles  who  surrounded  him,  to  take  no  part  in  the  impend- 
ing fight. 

At  the  same  time  the  ruler,  conscious  that  military  com- 
mand gives  great  power  to  its  holder,  frequently  appoints  as 
army-leader  his  son  or  other  near  relative:  thus  trying  to 
prevent  the  usurpation  so  apt  to  occur  (as,  to  add  another  in- 
stance, it  occurred  among  the  Hebrews,  whose  throne  was 
several  times  seized  by  captains  of  the  host).  The  Iliad  shows 
that  it  was  usual  for  a  Greek  king  to  delegate  to  his  heir  the 
duty  of  commanding  his  troops.  In  Merovingian  times 
king's  sons  frequently  led  their  father's  armies;  and  of  the 
Carolingians  we  read  that  while  the  king  commanded  the 
main  levy,  ^'  over  other  armies  his  sons  were  placed,  and  to 
them  the  business  of  commanding  was  afterwards  increas- 
ingly transferred."  It  was  thus  in  ancient  Japan.  When 
the  emperor  did  not  himself  command  his  troops,  "  this 
charge  was  only  connnitted  to  members  of  the  Inqierial 
house,"  and  ^'  the  power  thus  remained  with  the  sovereign." 
In  ancient  Peru  there  was  a  like  alternative.  "  The  armv  was 


482  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

put  under  tlio  direction  of  sonic  experienced  eliicf  of  the  royal 
blood,  or,  more  frequently,  headed  by  the  Ynca  in  person." 

The  widening  civil  functions  of  the  political  head,  obvi- 
ously prompt  this  delegation  of  military  functions.  But 
while  the  discharge  of  both  becomes  increasingly  diliicult  as 
the  nation  enlarges;  and  while  the  attempt  to  discharge  both 
is  dangerous;  there  is  also  danger  in  doing  either  by  deputy. 
At  the  same  time  that  there  is  risk  in  giving  supreme  com- 
mand of  a  distant  army  ^o  a  general,  there  is  also  risk  in  going 
with  the  army  and  leaving  the  government  in  the  hands  of  a 
vicegerent;  and  the  catastrophes  from  the  one  or  the  other 
cause,  which,  spite  of  precautions,  have  taken  place,  show  us 
alike  that  there  is,  during  social  evolution,  an  inevitable  ten- 
dency to  the  differentiation  of  the  military  headship  from  the 
•political  headship,  but  that  this  diflFerentiation  can  become 
permanent  only  under  certain  conditions. 

The  general  fact  would  appear  to  be  that  while  militant 
activity  is  great,  and  the  whole  society  has  the  organization 
appropriate  to  it,  the  state  of  equilibrium  is  one  in  which 
the  political  head  continues  to  be  also  the  militant  head; 
that  in -proportion  as  there  gi'ows  up,  along  with  industrial 
life,  a  civil  administration  distinguishable  from  the  military 
administration,  the  political  head  tends  to  become  increas- 
ingly civil  in  his  functions,  and  to  delegate,  now  occasionally, 
now  generally,  his  militant  functions;  that  if  there  is  a  re- 
turn to  great  militant  activity,  with  consequent  reversion  to 
militant  structure,  there  is  liable  to  occur  a  re-establishment 
of  the  primitive  type  of  headship,  by  nsur])ation  on  the  ])art 
(tf  the  successful  general — either  jiradical  tisui-patiou,  where 
the  king  is  too  sacred  to  be  dis])la('ed,  or  complete  usurpation 
where  he  is  not  too  sacred;  but  that  where,  along  witli  de- 
creasing militancy,  there  goes  increasing  ri\il  Hfo  nnd  ad- 
ministration, headshi])  of  tlie  army  becomes  pcniianciitly  dif- 
foreuti.'ifcd  from  political  headshij),  and  subordinated  to  it. 

§  519,    While,  in  the  course  of  social  evolution,  there  has 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  483 

been  going  on  this  separation  of  the  fighting  body  from  the 
community  at  hirge,  this  diminution  in  its  relatiA'e  mass,  and 
this  establishment  of  a  distinct  headship  to  it,  there  has  been 
going  on  an  internal  organization  of  it. 

The  fighting  body  is  at  first  wholly  without  structure. 
Among  savages  a  battle  is  a  number  of  single  combats:  the 
chief,  if  there  is  one,  being  but  the  warrior  of  most  mark, 
who  fights  like  the  rest.  Through  long  stages  this  disunited 
action  continues.  The  Iliad  tells  of  little  more  than  the  per- 
sonal encounters  of  heroes,  which  were  doubtless  multiplied 
in  detail  by  their  unraentioned  followers;  and  after  the  de- 
cay of  that  higher  military  organization  which  accompanied 
Greek  and  Roman  civilization,  this  chaotic  kind  of  fighting 
recurred  throughout  mediaeval  Europe.  During  the  early 
feudal  period  everything  turned  on  the  prowess  of  individ- 
uals. War,  says  Gautier,  consisted  of  bloody  duels ;  "  and 
even  much  later  the  idea  of  personal  action  dominated  over 
that  of  combined  action.  But  along  with  political  progress, 
the  subjection  of  individuals  to  their  chief  is  increasingly 
shown  by  fulfilling  his  commands  in  battle.  Action  in  the 
field  becomes  in  a  higher  degi-ee  concerted,  by  the  absorption 
of  their  wills  in  his  will, 

A  like  change  presently  shows  itself  on  a  larger  scale. 
While  the  members  of  each  component  group  have  their  ac- 
tions more  and  more  combined,  the  gi'oups  themselves,  of 
which  an  army  is  composed,  pass  from  disunited  action  to 
united  action.  When  small  societies  are  compounded  into  a 
larger  one,  their  joint  body  of  warriors  at  first  consists  of  the 
tribal  clusters  and  family-chisters  assembled  together,  but 
retaining  their  respective  individualities.  The  head  of  each 
Hottentot  kraal,  "  has  the  command,  under  the  chief  of  his 
nation,  of  the  troops  furnished  out  by  his  kraal."  Similarly, 
the  Malagasy  "  kept  their  own  respective  clans,  and  every 
clan  had  its  own  leader."  Amongthe  Chibchas,"  eachcazique 
and  tribe  came  with  different  signs  on  their  tents,  fitted  out 
with  the  mantles  by  which  they  distinguished  themselves 
90 


484  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

from  eacli  other."  A  kindred  arrangenieut  existed  in  earlv 
Komau  times:  the  eity-army  was  "  distributed  into  tribes, 
curiae,  and  families."  It  was  so,  too,  with  the  Germanic  peo- 
ples, who,  in  the  tield, ''  arranged  themselves,  when  not  other- 
wise tied,  in  families  and  athnities;  "  or,  as  is  said  by  Kemble 
of  our  ancestors  in  old  English  times,  "  each  kindred  was 
drawn  u\)  under  an  officer  of  its  own  lineage  and  appointment, 
and  the  several  members  of  the  family  served  togetlun-." 
This  organization,  or  lack  of  organization,  continued  through- 
out the  feudal  i)eriod.  In  France,  in  the  14th  century,  the 
army  was  a  "  horde  of  indej)endent  chiefs,  each  with  his  own 
following,  each  doing  his  own  will ;  "  and,  according  to  Frois- 
sart,  the  different  groups  "  were  so  ill-formed  "  that  they  did 
not  always  know  of  a  discomfiture  of  the  main  body. 

Besides  that  increased  subordination  of  local  heads  to  the 
gAieral  head  which  accompanies  political  integration,  and 
which  must  of  course  precede  a  more  centralized  and  com- 
bined mode  of  military  action,  two  sp(>cial  causes  may  be 
recognized  as  preparing  the  way  for  it. 

One  of  these  is  unlikeuess  of  kinds  in  the  arms  used.  Some- 
times the  cooperating  tribes,  having  habituated  themselves 
to  different  weai)ons,  come  to  battle  already  marked  oft'  from 
one  another.  In  such  cases  the  divisions  by  weapons  corre- 
spond with  the  tribal  divisions;  as  seems  to  have  been  to 
some  extent  the  case  with  the  Hebrews,  among  whom  the 
men  of  Benjamin,  of  Gad,  and  of  dii(hdi,  were  partially 
thus  distinguished.  But,  usually,  the  unlikenesses  of  anus 
consequent  on  unlikenesses  of  rank,  initiate  these  military 
divisions  which  teiid  to  traver.se  the  divisions  arising  from 
tribal  organization.  The  army  of  the  ancient  p]gyptians  in- 
cluded bodies  of  charioteers,  of  cavalry,  and  of  foot;  and  the 
respective  accoutrements  of  the  men  forming  these  bodies, 
differing  in  their  costliness,  implied  differences  of  social  posi- 
tion. The  like  may  be  said  of  the  Assyrians.  Similarly,  tlie 
Iliad  shows  us  among  the  early  Greeks  a  state  in  whicli  the 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  485 

contrasts  in  weapons  due  to  contrasts  in  wealtli,  had  not  yet 
resulted  in  differently-armed  bodies,  such  as  are  formed  at  later 
stages  with  decreasing  regard  for  tribal  or  local  divisions. 
And  it  was  so  in  Western  Europe  during  times  when  each 
feudal  superior  led  his  own  knights,  and  his  followers  of  in- 
ferior grades  and  weapons.  Though  within  each  group  there 
were  men  differing  alike  in  their  rank  and  in  their  arms,  yet 
what  we  may  call  the  vertical  divisions  between  groups  were 
not  traversed  by  those  horizontal  divisions  throughout  the 
whole  army,  which  unite  all  who  are  similarly  armed.  This 
wider  segregation  it  is,  however,  which  we  observe  taking- 
place  with  the  advance  of  military  organization.  The  supre- 
macy acquired  by  the  Spartans  was  largely  due  to  the  fact 
that  Lykurgus  "  established  military  divisions  quite  distinct 
from  the  civil  divisions,  whereas  in  the  other  states  of  Greece, 
until  a  period  much  later  .  .  .  the  two  were  confounded* — 
the  hoplites  or  horsemen  of  the  same  tribe  or  ward  being 
marshalled  together  on  the  field  of  battle."  AVith  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Roman  arms  there  occurred  kindred  changes. 
The  divisions  came  to  be  related  less  to  rank  as  dependent 
on  tribal  organization,  and  more  to  social  position  as  deter- 
mined by  property;  so  that  the  kinds  of  arms  to  be  borne 
and  the  services  to  be  rendered,  were  regiTlated  by  the  sizes 
of  estates,  with  the  result  of  "  merging  all  distinctions  of  a 
gentile  and  local  nature  in  the  one  common  levy  of  the  com- 
munity." In  the  field,  divisions  so  established  stood  thus: — 
"The  four  first  ranks  of  each  phalanx  were  formed  of  the  full-armed 
hoplites  of  the  first  class,  the  holders  of  an  entire  hide  [?];  in  the  fifth 
and  sixth  were  placed  the  less  completely  equipped  farmers  of  the 
second  and  third  class;  the  two  last  classes  were  annexed  as  rear 
ranks  to  the  phalanx. 

And  though  political  distinctions  of  clan-origin  were  not 
thus  directly  disregarded  in  the  cavalry,  yet  they  were  in- 
directly interfered  with  by  the  addition  of  a  larger  troop  of 
non-burgess  cavalry.  That  a  system  of  divisions  ^vhicli  tends 
to  obliterate  those  of  rank  and  locality,  has  been  ro]n-oduced 


486  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

during  the  re-development  of  military  organization  in  modern 
times,  is  a  familiar  fact. 

A  concomitant  cause  of  tins  change  has  all  along  been 
that  interfusion  of  the  gentile  and  trihal  groups  entailed  by 
aggTcgation  of  large  numbers.  As  before  j)ointed  out,  the 
Jvleisthenian  re-organization  in  Attica,  and  the  Servian  re- 
organization in  Rome,  were  largely  deterniincd  by  the  im- 
practicability of  maintaining  the  corrcs])()n(k'nce  between 
tribal  divisions  and  military  obligations;  and  a  redistribution 
of  military  obligations  naturally  proceeded  on  a  numerical 
basis.  By  various  peoples,  we  find  this  step  in  organization 
taken  for  civil  purposes  or  military  purposes,  or  both.  To 
cases  named  in  §  512,  may  be  added  that  of  the  Hebrews, 
who  were  grouped  into  tens,  fifties,  hundreds  and  thousands. 
Even  the  barbarous  Araucanians  divided  themselves  into 
regiments  of  a  thousand,  sub-divided  into  companies  of  a 
hundred.  Evidently  numerical  grouping  conspires  with 
classing  by  arms  to  obliterate  the  primitive  divisions. 

This  transition  from  the  state  of  incoherent  clusters,  each 
having  its  own  rude  organization,  to  tlie  state  of  a  coherent 
whole,  held  together  by  an  elaborate  organization  running 
throughout  it,  of  course  im])lies  a  concomitant  ])rogress  in 
the  centralization  of  command.  As  the  })rimitive  horde 
becomes  more  etlicieut  for  war  in  pro]X)rtion  as  its  members 
grow  obedient  to  the  orders  of  its  chief;  so,  the  army  formed 
of  aggregated  hordes  becomes  more  efficient  in  proportion  as 
the  chiefs  of  the  liordes  fall  under  the  power  of  one  sujjremc 
chief.  And  the  above-described  transition  from  aggregated 
tribal  and  local  groups  to  an  army  formed  of  regular  divi- 
sions and  sub-divisions,  goes  along  with  the  development  of 
gi'ades  of  commanders,  successively  subordinated  one  to 
another.  A  controlling  system  of  this  kind  is  dt'vel()])ed 
by  the  uncivilized,  where  considerable  military  efficiency  has 
been  reached;  as  at  present  among  the  Araucanians,  the 
Zulus,  the  Uganda  peo])le,  who  luive  severally  tliree  grades  of 
officers;    as  in  the  past  among  the  ancient  Peruvians  and 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  487 

ancient  Mexicans,  who  bad  respectively  several  grades;  and 
as  also  among  the  ancient  Hebrews. 

§  520.  One  furtlier  general  change  has  to  be  noticed — the 
change  from  a  state  in  which  the  army  now  assembles  and 
noAv  disperses,  as  required,  to  a  state  in  which  it  becomes 
permanently  established. 

While,  as  among  savages,  the  male  adults  are  all  warriors, 
the  fighting  body,  existing  in  its  combined  form  only  during 
war,  becomes  during  peace  a  dispersed  body  carrying  on  in 
parties  or  separately,  hunting  and  other  occupations;  and 
similarly,  as  we  have  seen,  during  early  stages  of  settled  life 
the  armed  freemen,  owning  land  jointly  or  separately,  all 
having  to  serve  as  soldiers  when  called  on,  return  to  their 
farming  when  war  is  over :  there  is  no  standing  army.  But 
though  after  the  compounding  of  small  societies  into  larger 
ones  by  w^ar,  and  the  rise  of  a  central  power,  a  kindred  system 
long  continues,  there  come  the  beginnings  of  another  system. 
Of  course,  irrespective  of  form  of  government,  frequent  wars 
generate  permanent  military  forces;  as  they  did  in  early 
times  among  the  Spartans;  as  later  among  the  Athenians; 
and  as  among  the  Romans,  when  extension  of  territory 
brought  frequent  needs  for  repressing  rebellions.  RecogTiiz- 
ing  these  cases,  we  may  pass  to  the  more  usual  cases,  in  which 
a  permanent  military  force  originates  from  the  body  of  armed 
attendants  surrounding  the  ruler.  Early  stages  show  us  this 
nucleus.  In  Taliiti  tlie  king  or  chief  had  warriors  among 
his  attendants;  and  the  king  of  Ashautce  has  a  body-guard 
clad  in  skins  of  wild  beasts — leopards,  panthers,  &c.  As 
was  pointed  out  when  tracing  the  process  of  political  differ- 
entiation, there  tend  everywhere  to  gather  round  a  pre- 
dominant chieftain,  refugees  and  others  who  exclumge  armed 
service  for  support  and  protection;  and  so  enable  the  pre- 
dominant chieftain  to  become  more  predominant.  Hence  the 
comiles  attached  to  the  prince ps  in  the  early  Gennan  com- 
munity, the  huscarlas  or  housecarls  surrounding  old  English 


488  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

kings,  and  the  antrustions  of  the  Merovingian  rulers.  These 
armed  followers  displayed  in  little,  the  characters  of  a  stand- 
ing arniv;  not  simply  as  being  permanently  united,  but  also 
as  being  severally  bound  to  their  prince  or  lord  by  relations 
of  personal  fealty,  and  as  being  subject  to  internal  govern- 
ment under  a  code  of  martial  law,  apart  from  the  govern- 
ment of  the  freemen;  as  was  especially  shown  in  the  large 
assemblage  of  them,  amounting  to  6,000,  which  was  formed 
by  Cnut. 

In  this  last  case  we  see  how  small  body-guards,  growing  as 
the  conquering  chief  or  king  draws  to  his  standard  adven- 
turers, fugitive  criminals,  men  who  have  fled  from  injustice, 
&c.,  pass  unobtrusively  into  troops  of  soldiers  who  fight  for 
pay.  The  employment  of  mercenaries  goes  back  to  the 
earliest  times — being  traceable  in  the  records  of  the  Egyp- 
tians at  all  periods;  and  it  continues  to  re-appear  under  cer- 
tain conditions:  a  primary  condition  being  that  the  ruler 
shall  have  acquired  a  considerable  revenue.  Whether  of 
home  origin  or  foreign  origin,  these  large  bodies  of  profes- 
sional soldiers  can  be  maintained  only  by  large  pecuniary 
means;  and,  ordinarily,  possession  of  these  means  goes  along 
with  such  power  as  enables  the  king  to  exact  dues  and  fines. 
In  early  stages  the  members  of  the  fighting  body,  when  sum- 
moned for  service,  have  severally  to  provide  themselves  not 
only  with  their  appropriate  arms,  but  also  with  the  needful 
supplies  of  all  kinds:  there  being,  while  political  organiza- 
tion is  little  developed,  neither  the  resources  nor  the  admin- 
istrative machinery  required  for  another  system.  But  the 
economic  resistance  to  militant  action,  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  increases  as  agricultural  life  spreads,  leading  to  occa- 
sional non-attendance,  to  confiscations,  to  heavy  fines  in  place 
of  confiscations,  then  to  fixed  money-payments  in  place  of 
personal  serv'ices,  results  in  the  growth  of  a  revenue  which 
serves  to  pay  professional  soldiers  in  place  of  the  vassals  who 
have  compounded.  And  it  then  becomes  possible,  instead  of 
hiring  many  such  substitutes  for  short  times,  to  hire  a  smaller 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  489 

number  continuously — so  adding  to  the  original  nucleus  of  a 
permanent  armed  force.  Every  further  increase  of  royal 
power,  increasing  the  ability  to  raise  money,  furthers  this 
differentiation.  As  Ranke  remarks  of  France,  "  standing 
armies,  imposts,  and  loans,  all  originated  together." 

Of  course  the  primitive  military  obligation  falling  on  all 
freemen,  long  continues  to  be  shown  in  modified  ways. 
Among  ourselves,  for  instance,  there  were  the  various  laws 
under  which  men  were  bound,  according  to  their  incomes,  to 
have  in  readiness  specified  supplies  of  horses,  weapons,  and 
accoutrements,  for  themselves  and  others  when  demanded. 
Afterwards  came  the  militia-laws,  under  which  there  fell 
on  men  in  proportion  to  their  means,  the  obligations  to  pro- 
vide duly  armed  horse-soldiers  or  foot-soldiers,  personally  or 
by  substitute,  to  be  called  out  for  exercise  at  specified  in- 
tervals for  specified  numbers  of  days,  and  to  be  provided 
with  subsistence.  There  may  be  instanced,  again,  such 
laws  as  those  under  which  in  France,  in  the  15th  century, 
a  corps  of  horsemen  was  formed  by  requiring  all  the  parishes 
to  furnish  one  each.  And  there  are  the  various  more  mod- 
ern forms  of  conscription,  used,  now  to  raise  temporary 
forces,  and  now  to  maintain  a  permanent  army.  Everywhere, 
indeed,  freemen  remain  potential  soldiers  when  not  actual 
soldiers. 

§  521.  Setting  out  with  that  undifferentiated  state  of  the 
body  politic  in  which  the  army  is  co-extensive  with  the  adult 
male  population,  we  thus  observe  several  ways  in  which 
there  goes  on  the  evolution  which  makes  it  a  specialized 
part. 

There  is  the  restriction  in  relative  mass,  which,  first  seen 
in  the  growth  of  a  slave-population,  engaged  in  work  instead 
of  war,  becomes  more  decided  as  a  settled  agricultural  life 
occupies  freemen,  and  increases  the  obstacles  to  military 
service.  There  is,  again,  the  restriction  caused  by  that 
growing  costliness  of  the  individual  soldier  accompanying 


490  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

the  development  of  anus,  accoutrements,  and  ancillary  ap- 
pliances of  warfare.  And  there  is  the  yet  additional  restric- 
tion caused  by  the  intenser  strain  which  military  action  puts 
on  the  resources  of  a  nation,  in  jjroportion  as  it  is  carried  on 
at  a  i;reater  distance. 

With  separation  of  the  fighting  body  from  the  body-politic 
at  large,  there  very  generally  goes  acquirement  of  a  sepa- 
rate head.  Active  militancy  ever  tends  to  maintain  union 
of  civil  rule  with  military  rule,  and  often  causes  re-union  of 
them  where  they  have  become  separate;  but  with  the  pri- 
mary differentiation  of  civil  from  military  structures,  is  com- 
monly associated  a  tendency  to  the  rise  of  distinct  controlling 
centres  for  them.  This  tendency,  often  defeated  by  usurpa- 
tion where  wars  are  frequent,  takes  effect  under  opposite 
conditions;  and  then  produces  a  military  head  subordinate 
to  the  civil  head. 

While  the  whole  society  is  being  developed  by  differen- 
tiation of  the  army  from  the  rest,  there  goes  on  a  develop- 
ment within  the  army  itself.  As  in  the  primitive  horde  the 
progress  is  from  the  uncombined  fighting  of  individuals  to 
combined  fighting  under  direction  of  a  chief;  so,  on  a  larger 
scale,  when  small  societies  are  united  into  great  ones,  the 
progress  is  from  the  independent  fighting  of  tribal  and  local 
groups,  to  fighting  under  direction  of  a  general  commander. 
And  to  effect  a  centralized  control,  there  arises  a  graduated 
system  of  officers,  replacing  the  set  of  i)rimitive  heads  of 
groups,  and  a  system  of  divisions  wliich,  traversing  the  orig- 
inal divisions  of  grou])s,  establish  regularly-organized  masses 
having  different  functions. 

With  developed  structure  of  the  fighing  body  comes  per- 
manence of  it.  While,  as  in  early  times,  men  are  gathered 
together  for  small  wars  and  then  again  dispersed,  efiieient 
organization  of  them  is  impracticable.  It  becomes  practica- 
ble only  among  men  who  are  constantly  kept  together  by 
wars  or  ])reparations  for  wars;  and  todies  of  such  men  grow- 
ing up,  re^jlace  the  temporarily-summoned  bodies. 


MILITARY  SYSTEMS.  491 

Lastly,  we  must  not  omit  to  note  that  while  the  army  be- 
comes otherwise  distinguished,  it  becomes  distinguished  by 
retaining  and  elaborating  the  system  of  status;  though  in 
the  rest  of  the  community,  as  it  advances,  the  system  of  con- 
tract is  spreading  and  grooving  definite.  Compulsory  co- 
operation continues  to  be  the  principle  of  the  military  part, 
however  widely  the  principle  of  voluntary  cooperation  comes 
into  play  throughout  the  civil  part. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

JUDICIAL    AND    EXECUTIVE    SYSTEMS. 

§  522.  That  we  may  be  prepared  for  recognizing  the  prim- 
itive identity  of  military  institutions  with  institutions  for 
administering  justice,  let  us  observe  how  close  is  the  kinship 
between  the  modes  of  dealing  with  external  aggression  and 
internal  aggression,  respectively. 

We  have  the  facts,  already  more  than  once  emphasized, 
that  at  first  the  responsibilities  of  communities  to  one  another 
arc  paralleled  by  the  responsibilities  to  one  another  of  family- 
gToups  within  each  community;  and  that  the  kindred  claims 
are  enforced  in  kindred  ways.  Various  savage  tribes  show 
us  that,  originally,  external  war  has  to  effect  an  equalization 
of  injuries,  either  directly  in  kind  or  indirectly  by  compen- 
sations. Among  the  Chinooks,  "  has  the  one  party  a  larger 
number  of  dead  than  the  other,  indemnification  must  be  made 
by  the  latter,  or  the  war  is  continued;  "  and  among  the 
Arabs  "  when  peace  is  to  be  made,  both  parties  count  up 
their  dead,  and  the  usual  blood-money  is  paid  for  excess  on 
either  side."  By  which  instances  we  are  shown  that  in  the 
Avars  between  tribes,  as  in  the  family-feuds  of  early  times,  a 
death  must  be  balanced  by  a  death,  or  else  must  be  com- 
pounded for;  as  it  once  was  in  Germany  and  in  England,  by 
specified  iimiil)crs  of  sheep  and  cattle,  or  by  money. 

Xot  only  arc  the  wars  which  societies  carry  on  to  effect  the 
righting  of  alleged  wrongs,  thus  paralleled  l\v  family-feuds  in 
the  respect  that  for  retaliation  in  kind  there  may  be  substi- 

492 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  493 

tilted  a  penalty  adjudged  by  usage  or  authority ;  but  they  are 
paralleled  by  feuds  between  individuals  in  the  like  respect. 
From  the  first  stage  in  which  each  man  avenges  himself  by 
force  on  a  transgressing  neighbour,  as  the  w^hole  community 
does  on  a  transgressing  community,  the  transition  is  to  a 
stage  in  which  he  has  the  alternative  of  demanding  justice  at 
the  hands  of  the  ruler.  We  see  this  beginning  in  such  places 
as  the  Sandwich  Islands,  where  an  injured  person  who  is 
too  weak  to  retaliate,  appeals  to  the  king  or  principal  chief; 
and  in  quite  advanced  stages,  option  between  the  two 
methods  of  obtaining  redress  survives.  The  feeling  shown 
down  to  the  13th  century  by  Italian  nobles,  who  "  regarded  it 
as  disgi'aceful  to  submit  to  laws  rather  than  do  themselves 
justice  by  force  of  arms,"  is  traceable  throughout  the  history 
of  Europe  in  the  slow  yielding  of  private  rectification  of 
wrongs  to  public  arbitration.  "  A  capitulary  of  Charles  the 
Bald  bids  them  [the  freemen]  go  to  court  armed  as  for  war, 
for  they  might  have  to  fight  for  their  jurisdiction;  "  and  our 
own  history  furnishes  an  interesting  example  in  the  early 
form  of  an  action  for  recovering  land:  the  "  grand  assize  " 
which  tried  the  cause,  originally  consisted  of  knights  armed 
with  swords.  Again  we  have  evidence  in  such  facts  as 
that  in  the  12th  century  in  France,  legal  decisions  were  so 
little  regarded  that  trials  often  issued  in  duels.  Further 
proof  is  yielded  by  such  facts  as  that  judicial  duels  (which 
w^ere  the  authorized  substitutes  for  private  wars  between 
families)  continued  in  France  down  to  the  close  of  the  llth 
century;  that  in  England,  in  17GS,  a  legislative  proposal  to 
abolish  trial  by  battle,  was  so  strongly  opposed  that  the 
measure  was  dropped;  and  that  the  option  of  such  trial  was 
not  disallowed  till  1810. 

We  may  observe,  also,  that  this  self-protection  gi-aduallv 
gives  place  to  protection  by  the  State,  only  under  stress  of 
public  needs — especially  need  for  military  efficiency.  Edicts 
of  Charlemagne  and  of  Charles  the  Bald,  seeking  to  stop  the 
disorders  consequent  on  private  wars,  by  insisting  on  appeals 
to  the  ordained  authorities,  and  threatening  punishment  of 


494  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

those  who  disobeyed,  sufficiently  imply  the  motive;  and  this 
motive  was  definitely  shown  in  the  feudal  period  in  France, 
by  an  ordinance  of  120(3,  wliich  "  prohibits  private  wars  and 
judicial  duels  so  long  as  the  king  is  engaged  in  war," 

Once  more  the  nnlitant  nature  of  legal  protection  is  seen 
in  the  fact  that,  as  at  first,  so  now,  it  is  a  replacing  of  indi- 
vidual armed  force  by  the  armed  force  of  the  State — always 
in  reserve  if  not  exercised.  "  The  sword  of  justice  "  is  a 
phrase  sufficiently  indicating  the  truth  that  action  against 
the  public  enemy  and  action  against  the  private  enemy  are  in 
the  last  resort  the  same. 

Thus  recognizing  the  original  identity  of  the  functions,  we 
shall  be  prepared  for  recognizing  the  original  identity  of  the 
structures  by  which  they  are  carried  on. 

§  523.  For  that  primitive  gathering  of  armed  men  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  at  once  the  council  of  war  and  the 
political  assembly,  is  at  the  same  time  the  judicial  body. 

Of  existing  savages  the  Hottentots  show  this.  The  court 
of  justice  ''  consists  of  the  captain  and  all  the  men  of  the 
kraal.  .  .  .  'Tis  held  in  the  o])en  fields,  the  men  squatting  in 
a  circle.  .  .  .  All  matters  are  determined  by  a  majority."  ..  . 
If  the  prisoner  is  "  convicted,  and  the  court  adjudges  him 
worthy  of  death,  sentence  is  executed  upon  the  spot."  The 
captain  is  chief  executioner,  striking  the  first  blow;  and  is 
followed  up  by  others.  The  records  of  various  historic  peo- 
])les  yield  evidence  of  kindred  meaning.  Taking  first  the 
Greeks  in  Homeric  days,  we  read  that  ''  sometimes  the  king 
separately,  sometimes  the  kings  or  chiefs  or  Gerontes,  in 
the  plural  number,  are  named  as  deciding  disputes  and 
awarding  satisfaction  to  complainants;  always  however  in 
public,  in  the  midst  of  the  assembled  agora,"  in  which 
the  popular  sympathies  were  expressed:  the  meeting  thus 
described,  being  the  same  with  that  in  which  questions  of 
war  and  peace  were  debated.  That  in  its  early  form 
the  Roman  gathering  of  "  sj)earmen,"  asked  by  the  king  to 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  495 

say  "  yes  "  or  ''  no  "  to  a  proposed  military  expedition  or  to 
some  State-measure,  also  expressed  its  opinion  concerning 
criminal  charges  publicly  judged,  is  implied  by  the  fact  that 
"  the  king  could  not  grant  a  pardon,  for  that  privilege  was 
vested  in  the  community  alone."  Describing  the  gatherings 
of  the  primitive  Germans,  Tacitus  says: — '"  The  multitude 
sits  armed  in  such  order  as  it  thinks  good  ...  It  is  lawful 
also  in  the  Assembly  to  bring  matters  for  trial  and  to  bring 
charges  of  capital  crimes  ...  In  the  same  assembly  chiefs 
are  chosen  to  administer  justice  throughout  the  districts  and 
villages.  Each  chief  in  so  doing  has  a  hundred  companions  of 
the  commons  assigned  to  him,  to  strengthen  at  once  his  judg- 
ment and  his  dignity."  A  kindred  arrangement  is  ascribed  by 
Lelevel  to  the  Poles  in  early  times,  and  to  the  Slavs  at  large. 
Among  the  Danes,  too,  "  in  all  secular  affairs,  justice  was 
administered  by  the  popular  tribunal  of  the  Lands-Ting  for 
each  province,  and  by  the  Herreds-Ting  for  the  smaller  dis- 
tricts or  sub-divisions."  Concerning  the  Irish  in  past  times, 
Prof.  Leslie  quotes  Spenser  to  the  effect  that  it  was  their 
usage  "'  to  make  great  assemblies  together  upon  a  rath  or  hill, 
there  to  parley  about  matters  and  wrongs  between  township 
and  township,  or  one  private  person  and  another."  And  then 
there  comes  the  illustration  furnished  by  old  English  times. 
The  local  moots  of  various  kinds  had  judicial  functions;  and 
the  witenagemot  sometimes  acted  as  a  high  court  of  justice. 

Interesting  evidence  that  the  original  military  assembly 
was  at  the  same  time  the  original  judicial  assembly,  is  sup- 
plied by  the  early  practice  of  punishing  freemen  for  non- 
attendance.  Discharge  of  military  obligation  being  impera- 
tive the  fining  of  those  who  did  not  come  to  the  armed 
gathering  naturally  followed ;  and  fining  for  absence  having 
become  the  usage,  survived  when,  as  for  judicial  purposes, 
the  need  for  the  presence  of  all  was  not  imperative.  Thence 
the  interpretation  of  the  fact  that  non-attendance  at  the 
hundred-court  was  thus  punishable. 

In  this  connexion  it  may  be  added  that,  in  some  cases 


496  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

where  the  primitive  form  eoiitiiiiiecl,  there  was  manifested  an 
incipient  diHerentiation  between  the  military  assembly  and 
the  judicial  assembly.  In  the  Carolingiau  period,  judicial 
assemblies  began  to  be  held  under  cover;  and  freemen  were 
forbidden  to  bring  their  arms.  As  was  pointed  out  in  §  491, 
among  the  Scandinavians  no  one  was  allowed  to  come  armed 
when  the  meeting  was  for  judicial  purposes.  And  since  we 
also  read  that  in  Iceland  it  was  disreputable  (not  punishable) 
for  a  freeman  to  be  absent  from  the  annual  gathering,  the 
implication  is  that  the  imperativeness  of  attendance  dimi- 
nished with  the  growing  predominance  of  civil  functions. 

§  524.  The  judicial  body  being  at  first  identical  with  the 
politico-military  body,  has  necessarily  the  same  triune  struc- 
ture; and  we  have  now  to  observe  the  different  forms  it  as- 
sumes according  to  the  respective  developments  of  its  three 
components.  AVe  may  expect  to  find  kinship  between  these 
forms  and  the  concomitaiit  political  forms. 

Where,  with  development  of  militant  organization,  the 
power  of  the  king  has  become  greatly  predominant  over  that 
of  the  chiefs  and  over  that  of  the  people,  his  supremacy  is 
showm  by  his  judicial  absoluteness,  as  well  as  by  his  absolute- 
ness in  political  and  military  affairs.  Such  shares  as  the 
elders  and  the  multitude  originally  had  in  trying  causes, 
almost  or  quite  disai)pear.  But  though  in  these  cases  the 
authority  of  the  king  as  judge,  is  unqualified  by  that  of  his 
head  men  and  his  other  subjects,  there  habitually  survive 
traces  of  the  primitive  arrangement.  For  habitually  his  de- 
cisions are  given  in  piiMic  and  iu  the  n])cn  air.  Petitioners 
for  justice  bring  tlicir  cases  before  him  when  he  makes  his 
appearance  out  of  doors,  suiM'ounded  by  his  attendants  and 
by  a  crowd  of  spectators;  as  we  have  seen  in  )^  .372  that  tlicy 
do  down  to  the  present  day  in  Kashmere,  By  the  Hebrew 
rulers,  judicial  sittings  were  held  "  in  the  gates  " — the 
usual  meeting-places  of  Eastern  peoples.  Among  the  early 
Romans   the   king   administered   justice    "  in    tlie   place   of 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  497 

public  assembly,  sitting  on  a  '  chariot  seat.'  "  Mr.  Gomme's 
Primitive  Folk-Mouts  eoutains  sundry  illustrations  sliowing 
that  among  the  Germans  in  old  times,  the  Ivonigs-stiihl,  or 
king's  judgment-seat,  was  on  the  green  sward ;  that  in  other 
cases  the  stone  steps  at  the  town-gates  constitut'ed  the  seat 
before  which  causes  were  heard  by  him;  and  that  again,  in 
early  French  usage,  trials  often  took  place  under  trees.  Ac- 
cording to  Joinville  this  practice  long  continued  in  France. 
"Many  a  time  did  it  happen  that,  in  summer,  he  [Lewis  IX]  would  go 
and  sit  in  the  forest  of  Vincennes  after  mass,  and  would  rest  against  an 
oak,  and  make  us  sit  round  him  ...  he  asked  them  with  his  own 
mouth,  '  Is  there  any  one  who  has  a  suit  ? '  .  .  .1  have  seen  him  some- 
times in  summer  come  to  hear  his  people's  suits  in  the  garden  of  Paris." 
And  something  similar  occurred  in  Scotland  under  David  I. 
All  which  customs  among  various  peoples,  imply  survival  of 
the  primitive  judicial  assembly,  changed  only  by  concentra- 
tion in  its  head  of  power  originally  shared  by  the  leading 
men  and  the  undistinguished  mass. 

Where  the  second  component  of  the  triune  political  struc- 
ture becomes  supreme,  this  in  its  turn  monopolizes  judicial 
functions.  Among  the  Spartans  the  oligarchic  senate,  and 
in  a  measure  the  smaller  and  chance-selected  oligarchy  con- 
stituted by  the  ephors,  joined  judicial  functions  with  their 
political  functions.  Similarly  in  Athens  under  the  aristo- 
cratic rule  of  the  Eupatridas,  we  find  the  Areopagus  formed 
of  its  members,  discharging,  either  itself  or  through  its  nine 
chosen  Archons,  the  duties  of  deciding-  causes  and  executing 
decisions.  In  later  days,  again,  we  have  tlie  case  of  the 
Venetian  council  of  ten.  And  then,  certain  incidents  of 
the  middle  ages  instructively  show  us  one  of  the  processes  by 
which  judicial  ]iower,  as  well  as  political  power,  passes  from 
tlie  hands  of  tlic  freemen  at  large  into  the  hands  of  a  smaller 
and  wealthier  class.  In  the  Carolingian  period,  besides  the 
bi-annual  meetings  of  the  hundred-court,  it  was — 
"convoked  at  the  ^'m/'s  will  and  pleasure,  to  try  particular  cases  .  .  . 
in  the  one  case,  as  in  tlie  otlier,  non-;ittondance  was  punished  .  .  .  it  was 
found  that  the  Grafs  used  tlieir  right  to  summon  these  extraordinary 


498  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Courts  in  excess,  -nitli  a  view,  by  repeated  fines  and  amercements,  to 
ruin  the  small  freeliolders,  and  thus  to  get  their  abodes  into  their  own 
hands.  Charlemagne  introduced  a  radical  law-re foim  .  .  .  the  groat 
body  of  the  freemen  were  released  from  attendance  at  the  Geliotene 
Dinge,  at  which,  from  thenceforth,  justice  was  to  be  administered  imder 
the  presidency,  ex  officio,  of  the  Centenar,  by  .  .  .  permanent  jurymen 
.  .  .  chosen  de  melianbus — i.e.,  from  the  more  ^well-to-do  freemen." 

But  in  otlier  cases,  aud  especially  where  concentration  in  a 
town  renders  performance  of  judicial  functions  less  burden- 
some, we  see  that  along  with  retention  or  acquirement  of  pre- 
dominant power  by  the  third  element  in  the  triune  political 
structure,  there  goes  exercise  of  judicial  functions  by  it.  The 
case  of  Athens,  after  the  replacing  of  oligarchic  rule  by 
democratic  rule,  is,  of  course,  the  most  familiar  example  of 
this.  The  Ivleisthenian  revolution  made  the  annually-ap- 
pointed magistrates  personally  responsible  to  the  people  ju- 
dicially assembled;  and  when,  under  Perikles,  there  were 
established  the  dikasteries,  or  courts  of  paid  jurors  chosen 
by  lot,  the  administration  of  justice  was  transferred  almost 
wholly  to  the  body  of  freemen,  divided  for  convenience  into 
committees.  Among  the  Fricslanders,  who  in  early  times 
were  enabled  by  the  nature  of  their  habitat  to  maintain  a  free 
form  of  political  organization,  there  continued  the  popular 
judicial  assembly: — "When  the  commons  were  summoned 
for  any  particular  purpose,  the  assembly  took  the  name  of  the 
Bodthing.  The  bodthing  was  called  for  the  purpose  of  pass- 
ing judgment  in  cases  of  urgent  necessity."  And  M.  de 
Laveleye,  describing  the  Teutonic  mark  as  still  existing  in 
Holland,  "  especially  in  Drenthe,"  a  tract  "  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  a  marsh  and  bog  "  (again  illustrating  the  physical 
conditions  favourable  to  maintenance  of  primitive  free  in- 
stitutions), goes  on  to  say  of  the  inhabitants  as  periodically 
assembled: — 

"They  appeared  in  arms;  nnd  no  one  could  absent  himself,  under  pain 
of  a  fine.  Tins  assembly  directed  nil  the  detiiils  as  to  the  enjoyment 
of  the  common  property;  appointed  the  works  to  be  executed;  im- 
posed pecuniary  penalties  for  the  violation  of  rules,  and  nominated 
the  oflBcers  charged  with  the  executive  power." 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  499 

The  likeness  between  the  judicial  form  and  the  political 
form  is  further  shown  where  the  government  is  neither  des- 
potic nor  oligarchic,  nor  democratic,  but  mixed.  For  in  our 
own  case  we  see  a  system  of  administering  justice  which,  like 
the  political  system,  unites  authority  that  is  in  a  consider- 
able degree  irresponsible,  with  popular  authority.  In  old 
English  times  a  certain  power  of  making  and  enforcing  local 
or  "  bye-laws  "  was  possessed  by  the  township;  and  in  more 
important  and  definite  ways  the  hundred-moot  and  the  shire- 
moot  discharged  judicial  and  executive  functions:  their  re- 
spective officers  being  at  the  same  time  elected.  But  the  sub- 
sequent growth  of  feudal  institutions,  followed  by  the  de- 
velopment of  royal  power,  was  accompanied  by  diminution 
of  the  popular  share  in  judicial  business,  and  an  increasing 
assignment  of  it  to  members  of  the  ruling  classes  and  to 
agents  of  the  crown.  And  at  present  we  see  that  the  system, 
as  including  the  power  of  juries  (which  arose  by  selection  of 
representative  men,  though  not  in  the  interest  of  the  people), 
is  in  part  popular ;  that  in  the  summary  jurisdiction  of  unpaid 
magistrates  who,  though  centrally  appointed,  mostly  belong- 
to  the  wealthy  classes,  and  especially  the  landowners,  it  is  in 
part  aristocratic;  that  in  the  regal  commissioning  of  judges 
it  continues  monarchic;  and  that  yet,  as  the  selection  of 
magistrates  and  judges  is  practically  in  the  hands  of  a  minis- 
try executing,  on  the  average,  the  public  will,  royal  power 
and  class-power  in  the  administration  of  justice  are  exercised 
under  popular  control. 

§  525.  A  truth  above  implied  and  now  to  be  definitely  ob- 
served, is  that  along  with  the  consolidation  of  small  societies 
into  large  ones  effected  by  war,  there  necessarily  goes  an  in- 
creasing discharge  of  judicial  functions  by  deputy. 

As  the  primitive  king  is  very  generally  himself  both  com- 
mander-in-chief and  high  priest,  it  is  not  unnatural  that 
his  delegated  judicial  functions  should  be  fulfilled  both  by 
priests  and  soldiers.     ]\Ioreover,  since  the  consultative  body, 

Avhere  it  becomes  established  and  separntod  from  the  multi- 
91 


500  '     POLITICAL   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

tiule,  habitually  iiu-ludes  members  of  both  these  classes,  siieli 
judicial  powers  as  it  exercises  cannot  at  the  outset  be  mono- 
polized by  members  of  either.  And  this  participation  is 
further  seen  to  arise  naturally  on  remembering  how,  as  be- 
fore shown,  priests  have  in  so  many  societies  united  military 
functions  with  clerical  functions;  and  how,  in  other  cases, 
becoming  local  rulers,  having  the  same  tenures  and  obliga- 
tions with  purely  military  local  rulers,  they  acquire,  in  com- 
mon with  them,  local  powers  of  judgiuent  and  execution;  as 
did  mediaeval  prelates.  Whether  the  ecclesiastical  class  or 
the  class  of  warrior-chiefs  acquires  judicial  predominance, 
probably  dei)ends  mainly  on  the  proportion  between  men's 
fealty  to  the  successful  soldier,  and  their  awe  of  the  priest 
as  a  recipient  of  divine  communications. 

Among  the  Zulus,  who,  with  an  undeveloped  mythology, 
have  no  great  deities  and  resulting  organized  priesthood,  the 
king  "  shares  his  power  with  two  soldiers  of  his  choice.  These 
two  form  the  supreme  judges  of  the  country."  Similarly 
with  the  Eggarahs  (Inland  Negroes),  whose  fetish-men  do 
not  form  an  influential  order,  the  first  and  second  judges  are 
''  also  commanders  of  the  forces  in  time  of  war."  Passing 
to  historic  peoples,  we  have  in  Attica,  in  Solon's  time,  the 
nine  archons,  who,  while  possessing  a  certain  sacredness  as 
belonging  to  the  Eupatridae,  united  judicial  with  military 
functions — more  especially  the  polemarch.  In  ancient  Rome, 
that  kindred  union  of  the  two  functions  in  the  consuls, 
who  called  themselves  indiscriminately,  p restores  or  judicea, 
naturally  resulted  from  tlieir  inheritance  of  both  functions 
from  the  king  they  i'('|)la('('<l;  but  licvdiid  this  there  is  the 
fact  that  though  the  ])ontiffs  had  ])i-evi()us]y  been  judges  in 
secular  matters  as  well  as  in  sacred  matters,  yet,  after  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  rej)ul)lic,  the  several  orders  of  magistrates 
were  selected  from  the  nou-clcrical  patricians, — the  original 
soldier-class.  And  then  througliout  the  middle  ages  in  Eu- 
rope, we  have  the  local  military  chiefs,  whether  holding  posi- 
tifins  like  tiMwe  of  old  Eiiiilisli  thanes  or  like  those  of  feudal 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  501 

barons,  acting  as  judges  in  tlieir  respective  localities.  Perhaps 
the  clearest  illustration  is  that  furnished  l)y  Japan,  where  a 
long-continued  and  highly-developed  military  regime,  has 
been  throughout  associated  with  the  monopoly  of  judicial 
functions  by  the  military  class*  the  apparent  reason  being 
that  in  presence  of  the  god-descended  Mikado,  supreme  in 
heaven  as  on  earth,  the  indigenous  Shinto  religion  never  de- 
veloped a  divine  ruler  whose  priests  acquired,  as  his  agents, 
an  authority  competing  with  terrestrial  authority. 

But  mostly  there  is  extensive  delegation  of  judicial  powers 
to  the  sacerdotal  class,  in  early  stages.  We  find  it  among 
existing  uncivilized  peoples,  as  the  Kalmucks,  whose  priests, 
besides  playing  a  predominant  part  in  the  greatest  judicial 
council,  exercise  local  jurisdiction :  in  the  court  of  each  sub- 
ordinate chief,  one  of  the  high  priests  is  head  judge.  Of 
extinct  uncivilized  or  semi-civilized  peoples,  may  be  named 
the  Indians  of  Yucatan,  by  whom  priests  were  appointed  as 
judges  in  certain  cases — judges  who  took  part  in  the  execu- 
tion of  their  own  sentences.  Originally,  if  not  afterwards,  the 
giving  of  legal  decisions  was  a  priestly  function  in  ancient 
.  Egypt ;  and  that  the  priests  were  supreme  judges  among  the 
Hebrews  is  a  familiar  fact :  the  Deuteronomic  law  condemn- 
ing to  death  any  one  who  disregarded  their  verdicts.  In  that 
general  assembly  of  the  ancient  Germans  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  exercised  judicial  powers,  the  priests  were  prominent; 
and,  according  to  Tacitus,  in  war  "  none  but  the  priests  are 
]iermitted  to  judge  offenders,  to  inflict  bonds  or  stripes;  so 
that  chastisement  appears  not  as  an  act  of  military  discipline, 
but  as  the  instigation  of  the  god  whom  they  suppose  present 
with  warriors."  In  ancient  Britain,  too,  according  to  Csesar, 
the  ]3ruids  alone  had  authority  to  decide  in  both  civil  and 
criminal  cases,  and  executed  their  own  sentences:  the  penalty 
for  disobedience  to  them  being  excommunication,  Grimm 
tells  us  that  the  like  held  among  the  Scandinavians.  "  In 
their  judicial  character  the  priests  seemed  to  have  exercised  a 
good  deal  of  control  over  the  people  ...   In  Iceland,  even 


502  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

under  Christianity,  the  judges  retained  the  name  and  several 
of  the  functions  of  heathen  goSar/'  And  then  we  have  the 
illustration  furnished  by  that  rise  of  ecclesiastics  to  the  posi- 
tions of  judges  throughout  mediajval  Europe,  which  accom- 
panied belief  in  their  divine  authority.  When,  as  during  the 
]\[crovingian  period  and  after,  "  the  fear  of  hell,  the  desire  of 
winning  heaven,"  and  other  motives,  prompted  donations  and 
bequests  to  the  Church,  till  a  large  part  of  the  landed  ])ropcrty 
fell  into  its  hands — wlien  there  came  increasing  numbers  of 
clerical  and  semi-clerical  dependents  of  the  Church,  over 
whom  bishops  exercised  judgment  and  discipline — when 
ecclesiastical  inHuence  so  extended  itself  that,  while  priests 
became  exempt  from  the  control  of  laymen,  lay  authorities 
became  subject  to  priests;  there  was  establislu'd  a  judicial 
power  of  this  divinely-commissioned  class  to  which  even  kings 
succumbed.  So  was  it  in  England  too.  Before  the  Con- 
quest, bishoi)s  had  become  the  assessors  of  ealdormen  in  the 
scire-gemot,  and  gave  judgments  on  vai'ious  civil  matters. 
With  that  recrudescence  of  military  organization  which  fol- 
lowed the  Conquest,  came  a  limitation  of  their  jurisdiction 
to  spiritual  offences  and  causes  concerning  clerics.  But  in 
subsequent  periods  ecclesiastical  tribunals,  bringing  under 
canon  law  numerous  ordinary  transgressions,  usurped  more 
and  more  the  duties  of  secular  judges:  their  excommunica- 
tions being  enforced  by  the  temporal  magistrates.  More- 
over, since  prelates  as  feudal  nobles  were  judges  in  their  re- 
s))ective  domains;  and  since  many  major  and  minor  judicial 
offices  in  the  central  government  were  tilled  by  prelates;  it 
resulted  that  the  administration  of  justice  was  largely,  if  not 
mainly,  in  the  hands  of  priests. 

This  sharing  of  delegated  judicial  functions  betAveen  the 
military  class  and  the  priestly  class,  with  predominance  here 
of  the  one  and  there  of  the  other,  naturally  continued  while 
there  was  no  other  class  having  wealth  and  iniluence.  But 
with  the  increase  of  towns  and  the  multiplication  of  traders, 
who  accumulated  riches  aiul  a<'(|nii'('d  <'(luc;iti()n,  jireviously 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  503 

possessed  only  by  ecclesiastics,  judicial  functions  fell  more 
and  more  into  their  hands.  Sundry  causes  conspired  to  pro- 
duce this  transfer.  One  was  lack  of  culture  among  the  nobles, 
and  their  decreiising  ability  to  administer  laws,  ever  increas- 
ing in  number  and  in  complexity.  Another  was  the  political 
unfitness  of  ecclesiastics,  who  grew  distasteful  to  rulers  in  pro- 
portion as  they  pushed  further  the  powers  and  privileges 
which  their  supposed  divine  commission  gave  them.  De- 
tails need  not  detain  us.  The  only  general  fact  needing  to  be 
emphasized,  is  that  this  transfer  ended  in  a  differentiation  of 
structures.  For  whereas  in  earlier  stages,  judicial  functions 
were  discharged  by  men  who  were  at  the  same  time  either 
soldiers  or  priests,  they  came  now  to  be  discharged  by  men 
exclusively  devoted  to  them. 

§  526.  Simultaneously,  the  evolution  of  judicial  systems, 
is  displayed  in  several  other  ways.  One  of  them  is  the  ad- 
dition of  judicial  agents  who  are  locomotive  to  the  pre-exist- 
ing stationary  judicial  agents. 

During  the  early  stages  in  which  the  ruler  administers 
justice  in  person,  he  does  this  now  in  one  place  and  now  in 
another;  according  as  affairs,  military  or  judicial,  carry  him 
to  this  or  that  place  in  his  kingdom.  Societies  of  various 
tyY)es  in  various  times  yield  evidence.  Historians  of  ancient 
Peru  tell  us  that  "  the  Ynca  gave  sentence  according  to  the 
crime,  for  he  alone  was  judge  wheresoever  he  resided,  and 
all  persons  w^ronged  had  recourse  to  him."  Of  the  German 
emperor  in  the  12th  century  we  read  that  ''  not  only  did  he 
receive  appeals,  but  his  presence  in  any  duchy  or  county  sus- 
pended the  functions  of  the  local  judges."  France  in 
the  15th  century  supplies  an  instance.  King  Charles 
''  spent  two  or  three  years  in  travelling  up  and  down  the 
kingdom  .  .  .  maintaining  justice  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
subjects."  In  Scotland  something  similar  was  done  by 
David  I.,  who  "  settled  marches,  forest  rights,  and  rights  of 
pasture:"    himself  making  the  marks  which  recorded  his 


5U4  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

decisions,  or  seeing  tlicni  made.  In  England,  "  Edgar  and 
Canute  had  themselves  made  judicial  circuits;  "  and  there  is 
good  evidence  of  such  judicial  travels  in  England  up  to  the 
time  of  the  Great  Charter.  Sir  Henry  Maine  has  quoted 
documents  showing  that  King  John,  in  common  with  earlier 
kings,  moved  about  the  country  with  great  activity,  and  held 
his  court  wherever  he  might  happen  to  be. 

Of  course  with  the  progress  of  political  integTation  and 
consequent  growing  power  of  the  central  ruler,  there  come 
more  numerous  cases  in  which  appeal  is  made  to  him  to  rectify 
the  wrongs  committed  by  local  rulers;  and  as  State-business 
at  large  augments  and  complicates,  his  inability  to  do  this 
personally  leads  to  doing  it  by  deputy.  In  France,  in  Char- 
lemagne's time,  there  were  the  "  Missi  Kcgii,  who  held  as- 
sizes from,  place  to  place ;  "  and  then,  not  forgetting  that  dur- 
ing a  subsequent  period  the  chief  heralds  in  royal  state,  as 
the  king's  representatives,  made  circuits  to  judge  and  punish 
transgressing  nobles,  we  may  pass  to  the  fact  that  in  the  later 
feudal  period,  when  the  business  of  the  king's  court  became 
too  great,  commissioners  were  sent  into  the  provinces  to  judge 
particular  cases  in  the  king's  name:  a  method  which  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  there  developed  further.  But  in 
England,  in  Henry  II. 's  time,  kindred  causes  prompted  kin- 
dred steps  which  initiated  a  permanent  system.  Instead  of 
listening  to  the  increasing  number  of  ajijioals  made  to  his 
court,  personally  or  through  his  lieutenant  flio  justiciar,  the 
king  commissioned  his  constable,  chancellor,  and  co-justieiar 
to  hear  pleas  in  the  different  counties.  Later,  there  came  a 
larger  number  of  these  members  of  the  central  judicial  court 
Avho  made  these  judicial  journeys:  part  of  them  being  cler- 
ical and  part  military.  And  hence  eventually  arose  the  esta- 
blished circuits  of  judges  whn,  like  their  prototypes,  had  to 
represent  the  king  and  exercise  supreme  authority. 

It  should  be  added  that  here  again  we  meet  witli  proofs 
that  in  the  evolution  of  arrangements  conducing  to  the  main- 
tenance of  iiidi\i(]iial  rights,  the  obligations  are  primary  and 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  505 

the  claims  derived.  For  the  business  of  these  traveUing 
judges,  like  the  business  of  the  king's  court  by  which  they 
were  commissioned,  was  primarily  fiscal  and  secondarily  judi- 
cial. They  were  members  of  a  central  body  that  was  at  once 
Exchequer  and  Curia  Beg  is,  in  which  financial  functions  at 
fii'st  predominated;  and  they  were  sent  into  the  provinces 
largely,  if  not  primarily,  for  purposes  of  assessment:  as  in- 
stance the  statement  that  in  1168,  "  the  four  Exchequel*  of- 
ficers who  assessed  the  aid  pur  fille  marier,  acted  not  only 
as  taxers  but  as  judges."  In  which  facts  we  see  harmony 
with  those  before  given,  showing  that  support  of  the  ruling 
agency  precedes  obtainment  of  protection  from  it. 

§  527.  With  that  development  of  a  central  government 
which  accompanies  consolidation  of  small  societies  into  a  large 
one,  and  with  the  consequent  increase  of  its  business,  entailing- 
delegation  of  functions,  there  goes,  in  the  judicial  organiza- 
tion as  in  the  other  organizations,  a  progressive  differentia- 
tion. The  evidence  of  this  is  extremely  involved;  both  for 
the  reason  that  in  most  cases  indigenous  judicial  agencies  have 
been  subordinated  but  not  destroyed  by  those  which  conquest 
has  originated,  and  for  the  reason  that  kinds  of  power,  as  well 
as  degrees  of  power,  have  become  distinguished.  A  few 
leading  traits  only  of  the  process  can  here  be  indicated. 

The  most  marked  differentiation,  already  partially  implied, 
is  that  between  the  lay,  the  ecclesiastical,  and  the  military 
tribunals.  From  those  early  stages  in  which  the  popular  as- 
sembly, with  its  elders  and  chief,  condemned  military  de- 
faulters, decided  on  ecclesiastical  questions,  and  gave  judg- 
ments about  offences,  there  has  gone  on  a  divergence  which, 
accompanied  by  disputes  and  struggles  concerning  jurisdic- 
tion, has  parted  ecclesiastical  courts  and  courts  martial  from 
the  courts  administering  justice  in  ordinary  civil  and  criminal 
cases.  Just  recognizing  these  cardinal  specializations,  we 
may  limit  our  attention  to  the  further  specializations  which 
have  taken  place  within  the  last  of  the  three  structures. 


506  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

Originally  the  ruler,  with  or  without  the  assent  of  the  as- 
sembled people,  not  only  decides:  he  executes  his  decisions, 
or  sees  them  executed..  For  example,  in  Dahomey  the  king- 
stands  by,  and  if  the  deputed  officer  does  not  please  him, 
takes  the  sword  out  of  his  hand  and  shows  him  how  to  cut 
off  a  head.  An  account  of  death-punishment  among  the 
Bedouins  ends  with  the  words — "  the  executioner  being  the 
sheikh  himself."  Our  own  early  history  affords  traces  of 
personal  executive  action  by  the  king;  for  there  came  a  time 
when  he  was  interdicted  from  arresting  any  one  himself,  and 
had  thereafter  to  do  it  in  all  cases  by  deputy.  And  this  in- 
terprets for  us  the  familiar  truth  that,  through  his  deputies 
the  sheriffs,  who  are  bound  to  act  personally  if  they  cannot 
themselves  find  deputies,  the  monarch  continues  to  be  theo- 
retically the  agent  who  carries  the  law  into  execution:  a 
truth  further  implied  by  the  fact  that  execution  in  criminal 
cases,  nominally  authorized  by  him  though  actually  by  his 
minister,  is  arrested  if  his  assent  is  withheld  by  his  minister. 
And  these  facts  imply  that  a  final  power  of  judgment  re- 
mains with  the  monarch,  notwithstanding  delegation  of  his 
judicial  functions.  How  this  happens  we  shall  see  on  trac- 
ing the  differentiation. 

Naturally,  when  a  ruler  employs  assistants  to  hear  com- 
plaints and  redress  grievances,  he  does  not  give  them  abso- 
lute authority;  but  reserves  the  power  of  revising  their  de- 
cisions. We  see  this  even  in  such  rude  societies  as  that  of 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  where  one  who  is  dissatisfied  with  the 
decision  of  his  chief  may  appeal  to  the  governor,  and  from 
the  governor  to  the  king;  or  as  in  ancient  Mexico,  where 
"  none  of  the  judges  were  allowed  to  condemn  to  death  with- 
out communicating  with  the  king,  who  had  to  pass  the  sen- 
tence." And  the  principle  holds  where  the  political  head- 
ship is  compound  instead  of  simple.  "  When  the  hegemony 
of  Athens  became,  in  fact,  more  and  more  a  dominion,  the 
civic  body  of  Attica  claimed  supreme  judicial  authority  over 
all  the  allies.     The  federal  towns  onlv  retained  their  lower 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  507 

courts."  Obviously  bv  such  changes  are  produced  unlike- 
nesses  of  degree  and  differences  of  kind  in  the  capacities  of 
judicial  agencies.  As  political  subordination  spreads,  the 
local  assemblies  which  originally  judged  and  executed  in 
cases  of  all  kinds,  lose  part  of  their  functions;  now  by  re- 
striction in  range  of  jurisdiction,  now  by  subjection  of  their 
decisions  to  supervision,  now  by  denial  of  executive  power. 
To  trace  up  the  process  from  early  stages,  as  for  instance 
from  the  stage  in  which  the  old  English  tything-moot  dis- 
charged administrative,  judicial,  and  executive  functions,  or 
from  the  stage  in  which  the 'courts  of  feudal  nobles  did  the 
like,  is  here  alike  impracticable  and  unnecessary.  Reference 
to  such  remnants  of  power  as  vestries  and  manorial  courts 
possess,  will  sufficiently  indicate  the  character  of  the  change. 
But  along  with  degradation  of  the  small  and  local  judicial 
agencies,  goes  development  of  the  great  and  central  ones; 
and  about  this  something  must  be  said. 

Returning  to  the  time  when  the  king  with  his  servants 
and  chief  men,  surrounded  by  the  people,  administers  justice 
in  the  open  air,  and  passing  to  the  time  when  his  court,  held 
more  f requeutly  under  cover  and  consequently  with  less  of 
the  popular  element,  still  consists  of  king  as  president  and  his 
household  officers  with  other  appointed  magnates  as  coun- 
sellors (who  in  fact  constitute  a  small  and  permanent  part 
of  that  general  consultative  body  occasionally  summoned) ; 
we  have  to  note  two  caus.es  which  cooperate  to  produce  a  di- 
vision of  these  remaining  parts  of  the  original  triune  body — 
one  cause  being  the  needs  of  subjects,  and  the  other  the  de- 
sire of  the  king.  So  long  as  the  king's  court  is  held  wher- 
ever he  happens  to  be,  there  is  an  extreme  hindrance  to  the 
hearing  of  suits,  and  much  entailed  loss  of  money  and  time 
to  suitors.  To  remedy  this  evil  came,  in  our  own  case,  the 
provision  included  in  the  Great  Charter  tliat  the  common 
pleas  should  no  longer  follow  the  king's  court,  but  be  held 
in  some  certain  place.  This  place  was  fixed  in  the  palace 
of  Westminster.      And  then  as  Blackstone  points  out — 


5uS  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

"  This  precedent  was  soon  after  copied  by  King  Philip  the  Fair  in 
France,  wlio  about  the  year  1303,  fixed  the  parliament  of  Paris  to  abide 
constantly  in  that  metropolis;  which  before  used  to  follow  the  person 
of  the  king  wherever  lie  went  .  .  .  And  thus  also,  in  141)5,  the  Em- 
peror ]\Iaximilian  I.  fixed  the  imperial  chamber,  which  before  always 
travelled  withr  the  court  and  household,  to  be  constantly  at  Worms." 
As  a  sequence  of  these  changes  it  of  course  ha})peiis  that  suits 
of  a  certain  kind  come  habitually  to  be  decided  without  the 
king's  presence:  there  results  a  permanent  transfer  of  part 
of  his  judicial  power.  Again,  press  of  business  or 

love  of  ease  prompts  the  king  himself  to  hand  over  such  legal 
matters  as  arc  of  little  interest  to  him.  Thus  in  France, 
while  we  read  that  Charles  V.,  when  regent,  sat  in  his  council 
to  administer  justice  twice  a  week,  and  Charles  VI.  once,  we 
also  read  that  in  1^370  the  king  declared  he  would  no  longer 
try  the  smaller  causes  personally.  Once  initiated  and  grow- 
ing into  a  usage,  this  judging  by  commission,  becoming  more 
frequent  as  affairs  multiply,  is  presently  otherwise  furthered : 
there  arises  the  doctrine  that  the  king  ought  not,  at  any  rate 
in  certain  cases,  to  join  in  judgment.  Thus  "  at  the  trial 
of  the  duke  of  Brittany  in  1378,  the  peers  of  France  pro- 
tested against  the  presence  of  the  king."  Again  '^  at  the  trial 
of  the  Marquis  of  Saluces,  under  Francis  I.,  that  monarch 
was  made  to  see  that  he  could  not  sit."  When  Lewis  XIII. 
Avishcd  to  be  judge  in  the  case  of  the  Duke  de  la  Valette,  he 
was  resisted  by  the  judges,  who  said  that  it  was  without 
precedent.  And  in  our  own  country  there  came  a  time  when 
"  James  I.  was  informed  by  the  judges  that  he  had  the  I'ight 
to  preside  in  the  court,  but  not  to  express  his  opinion:  "  a 
step  towards  that  exclusion  finally  reached. 

AVhile  the  judicial  business  of  the  political  head  thus  lapses 
into  the  hands  of  appointed  agencies,  these  agencies  them- 
selves, severally  parting  with  certain  of  their  functions  one 
to  another,  become  specialized.  Among  ourselves,  even  be- 
fore there  took  place  the  above-named  separation  of  the  per- 
manently-localized court  of  common  pleas,  from  the  king's 
court  which  moved  about  witli  liini,  thoro  had  arisen  within 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.        •      5U9 

tlie  king's  court  an  incipient  differentiation.  Causes  concern- 
ing revenue  were  dealt  with  in  sittings  distinguished  from 
the  general  sittings  of  the  king's  court,  hy  being  held  in 
another  room;  and  establishment  of  this  custom  produced  a 
division.  Adaptation  of  its  parts  to  unlike  ends  led  to  diver- 
gence of  them;  until,  out  of  the  original  Curia  Regis,  had 
come  the  court  of  exchequer  and  the  court  of  common  pleas ; 
leaving  behind  the  court  of  king's  bench  as  a  remnant  of  the 
original  body.  When  the  office  of  justiciar  (who,  represent- 
ing the  king  in  his  absence,  presided  over  these  courts)  was 
abolished,  the  parting  of  them  became  decided;  and  though, 
for  a  length  of  time,  competition  for  fees  led  to  trenching  on 
one  another's  functions,  yet,  eventually,  their  functions  be- 
came definitely  marked  off.  A  further  important  de- 
velopment, different  but  allied,  took  place.  We  have  seen 
that  when  appointing  others  to  judge  for  him,  the  king  re- 
serves the  power  of  deciding  in  cases  which  the  law  has  not 
previously  provided  for,  and  also  the  power  of  supervising  the 
decisions  made  by  his  deputies.  Xaturally  this  power  comes 
to  be  especially  used  to  over-ride  decisions  which,  technically 
according  to  law,  are  practically  unjust:  the  king  acquires 
an  equity  jurisdiction.  At  first  exercised  personally,  this 
jurisdiction  is  liable  to  be  deputed ;  and  in  our  own  case  was 
so.  The  chancellor,  one  of  the  king's  servants,  who  "  as  a 
baron  of  the  exchequer  and  as  a  leading  member  of  the 
curia  "  had  long  possessed  judicial  functions,  and  who  was 
the  officer  to  present  to  the  king  petitions  concerning  these 
"  matters  of  grace  and  favour,"  became  presently  himself 
the  authority  who  gave  decisions  in  equity  qualifying  the 
decisions  of  law;  and  thus  in  time  resulted  the  court  of 
chancery.  Minor  courts  with  minor  functions  also  budded 
out  from  the  original  Curia  Regis.  This  body  included 
the  chief  officers  of  the  king's  household,  each  of  whom 
had  a  jurisdiction  in  matters  pertaining  to  his  special  busi- 
ness; and  hence  resulted  the  court  of  the  chamberlain,  the 
court  of  the  steward,  the  court  of  the  carl  marshal  (now 


510  rOHTICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

at  Herald's  College),  the  court  of  the  constable  (no  longer 
extant),  the  court  of  the  admiral,  ticc. 

In  brief,  then,  we  find  proofs  that,  little  trace  as  its  struc- 
ture now  shows  of  such  an  origin,  our  complex  judicial  sys- 
tem, alike  in  its  supreme  central  parts  and  in  its  various 
small  local  parts,  has  evolved  by  successive  changes  out  of 
the  primitive  gathering  of  people,  head  men,  and  chief. 

§  528.  Were  further  details  desirable, there  might  here  be 
given  an  account  of  police-systems;  showing  their  evolution 
from  the  same  primitive  triune  body  whence  originate  the 
several  organizations  delineated  in  this  and  preceding  chap- 
ters. As  using  force  to  subdue  internal  aggressors,  police  are 
like  soldiers,  who  use  force  to  subdue  external  aggressors ;  and 
the  two  functions,  originally  one,  are  not  even  now  quite 
separated  either  in  their  natures  or  their  agents.  For  besides 
being  so  armed  that  they  are  in  some  countries  scarcely  dis- 
tinguishable from  soldiers,  and  besides  being  subject  to  mili- 
tary discipline,  the  police  are,  in  case  of  need,  seconded  by 
soldiers  in  the  discharging  of  their  duties.  To  indicate  the 
primitive  identity  it  will  suffice  to  name  two  facts.  During 
the  Merovingian  period  in  France,  anned  bands  of  serfs,  at- 
tached to  the  king's  household  and  to  the  households  of 
dukes,  were  employed  both  as  ]ioHce  and  for  garrison  pur- 
poses; and  in  feudal  England,  the  posse  comifafus,  consist- 
ing of  all  freemen  between  fifteen  and  sixty,  under  command 
of  the  sheriff,  was  the  agent  for  preserving  internal  peace  at 
the  same  time  that  it  was  available  for  repelling  inva-^^ions, 
though  not  for  foreign  service — an  incipient  differentiation 
between  the  internal  and  external  defenders  which  became 
in  course  of  time  more  marked.  Letting  this  brief  indica- 
tion suffice,  it  remains  only  to  sum  u)i  the  conclusions  above 
reached. 

Evidences  of  sundry  kinds  unite  in  showing  that  judicial 
action  and  military  action,  ordinarily  having  for  their  com- 
mon end  the  rectification  of  real  or  alleged  wrongs,  are  closely 


JUDICIAL  AND  EXECUTIVE  SYSTEMS.  511 

allied  at  the  outset.  The  sword  is  the  ultimate  resort  iu 
either  case :  use  of  it  being  iu  the  one  case  preceded  by  a  war 
of  words  carried  on  before  some  authority  whose  aid  is  in- 
voked, while  in  the  other  case  it  is  not  so  preceded.  As  is 
said  by  Sir  Henry  Maine,  "  the  fact  seems  to  be  that  con- 
tention in  Court  takes  the  place  of  contention  in  arms,  but 
only  gradually  takes  its  place." 

Thus  near  akin  as  the  judicial  and  military  actions  origi; 
nally  are,  they  are  naturally  at  first  dischal-ged  by  the  same 
agency — the  primitive  triune  body  fonned  of  chief,  head 
men,  and  people.  This  which  decides  on  affairs  of  war  and 
settles  questions  of  public  policy  also  gives  judgments  concern- 
ing alleged  wrongs  of  individuals  and  enforces  its  decisions. 

According  as  the  social  aativities  develop  one  or  other  ele- 
ment of  the  primitive  triune  body,  there  results  one  or  other 
form  of  agency  for  the  administration  of  law.  If  continued 
militancy  makes  the  ruling  man  all-powerful,  he  becomes 
absolute  judicially  as  in  other  ways:  the  people  lose  all  share 
in  giving  decisions,  and  the  judgments  of  the  chief  men  who 
surround  him  are  overriden  by  his.  If  conditions  favour 
the  growth  of  the  chief  men  into  an  oligarch v,  the  body 
they  form  becomes  the  agent  for  judging  and  punishing 
offences  as  for  other  purposes:  its  acts  being  little  or  not  at 
all  qualified  by  the  opinion  of  the  mass.  While  if  the  sur- 
rounding circumstances  and  mode  of  life  are  such  as  to  pre- 
vent supremacy  of  one  man,  or  of  the  leading  men,  its  primi- 
tive judicial  power  is  preserved  by  the  aggregate  of  freemen 
— or  is  regained  by  it  where  it  re-acquires  predominance. 
And  where  the  powers  of  these  three  elements  are  mingled 
in  the  political  organization,  tliey  are  also  mingled  in  the 
judicial  organization. 

In  those  cases,  forming  the  great  majority,  in  which  ha- 
bitual militancy  entails  subjection  of  the  people,  partial  or 
complete,  and  in  which,  consequently,  political  power  and 
judicial  power  come  to  be  exercised  exclusively  by  the  several 
orders  of  chief  men,  the  judicial  organization  which  arises  as 


512  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

the  society  enlarges  aud  complicates,  is  officered  by  the  sacer- 
dotal class,  or  the  military  class,  or  partly  the  one  and  partly 
the  other :  their  respective  shares  being  apparently  dependent 
on  the  ratio  between  the  degree  of  conscious  subordination 
to  the  human  ruler  and  the  degree  of  conscious  subordination 
to  the  divine  ruler,  whose  will  the  priests  are  supposed  to 
communicate.  But  with  the  progress  of  industrialism  and 
the  rise  of  a  class  which,  acquiring  property  and  knowledge, 
gains  consequent. influence,  the  judicial  system  comes  to  be 
largely,  and  at  length  chiefly,  officered  by  men  derived  from 
this  class;  and  these  men  become  distinguished  from  their 
predecessors  not  only  as  being  of  other  origin,  but  also  as 
being  exclusively  devoted  to  judicial  functions. 

While  there  go  on  changes,  of  this  kind,  there  go  on 
changes  by  which  the  originally-simple  and  comparatively- 
uniform  judicial  system,  is  rendered  increasingly  complex. 
AVhere,  as  in  ordinary  cases,  there  has  gone  along  with 
achievement  of  supremacy  by  the  king,  a  monopolizing  of 
judicial  authority  by  him,  press  of  business  presently  obliges 
him  to  appoint  others  to  try  causes  and  give  judgments: 
subject  of  course  to  his  apj)roval.  Already  his  court,  origi- 
nally formed  of  himself,  his  chief  men,  and  the  surrounding 
people,  has  become  supreme  over  courts  constituted  in  analo- 
gous ways  of  local  magnates  and  their  inferiors — so  initiating 
a  differentiation;  and  now  by  delegating  certain  of  his 
servants  or  assessors,  at  first  with  temporary  commissions  to 
hear  appeals  locally,  and  then  as  permanent  itinerant  judges, 
a  further  differentiation  is  produced.  And  to  this  are  added 
yet  further  differentiations,  kindred  in  nature,  by  which 
other  assessors  of  his  court  are  changed  into  the  heads  of 
specialized  courts,  which  divide  its  business  among  them. 
Though  this  particular  course  has  been  taken  in  but  a  single 
case,  yet  it  serves  to  exemjilifv  the  general  ])rinciple  under 
which,  in  one  way  or  other,  tliere  arises  out  of  the  primitive 
simple  judicial  body,  a  centralized  and  heterogeneous  judi- 
cial organization. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LAWS. 

§  529.  If,  going  back  once  more  to  the  primitive  horde, 
we  ask  what  happens  when  increase  of  numbers  necessitates 
migration — if  we  ask  what  it  is  which  causes  the  migrating 
part  to  fall  into  social  arrangements  like  those  of  the  parent 
part,  and  to  behave  in  the  same  way;  the  obvious  reply  is 
that  the  inherited  natures  of  its  members,  regulated  by  the 
ideas  transmitted  from  the  past,  cause  these  results.  That 
guidance  by  custom  which  we  everj'where  find  among  rude 
peoples,  is  the  sole  conceivable  guidance  at  the  outset. 

To  recall  vividly  the  truth  set  forth  in  §  467,  that  the 
rudest  men  conform  their  lives  to  ancestral  usages,  I  may 
name  such  further  illustrations  as  that  the  Sandwich  Islanders 
had  "  a  kind  of  traditionary  code  .  .  .  followed  by  general 
consent ;  "  and  that  by  the  Bechuanas,  government  is  carried 
on  according  to  "  long-acknowledged  customs."  A  more 
specific  statement  is  that  made  by  Mason  concerning  the 
Karens,  among  whom  "  the  elders  are  the  depositaries  of  the 
laws,  both  moral  and  political,  botli  civil  and  criminal,  and 
they  give  them  as  they  receive  them,  and  as  they  have  been 
brought  down  from  past  generations  "  orally.  Here,  how- 
ever, we  have  chiefly  to  note  that  this  government  by  custom, 
persists  through  long  stages  of  progress,  and  even  still  largely 
influences  judicial  administration.  Instance  the  fact  that  as 
late  as  the  14th  century  in  France,  an  ordinance  declared  that 

"  the  whole  kingdom  is  regulated  by  '  custom,'  and  it  is  as 

513 


5U  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

'  custom  '  that  some  of  our  subjects  make  use  of  the  written 
law."  Instance  the  fact  that  our  own  Common  Law  is  mainly 
an  embodiment  of  the  "  customs  of  the  realm,"  which  have 
gradually  become  established:  its  older  part,  nowhere  exist- 
ing in  the  shape  of  enactment,  is  to  be  learnt  only  from  text- 
books; and  even  parts,  such  as  mercantile  law,  elaborated  in 
modern  times,  are  known  only  through  reported  judgments, 
given  in  conformity  with  usages  proved  to  have  been  pre- 
viously followed.  Instance  again  the  fact,  no  less  signifi- 
cant, that  at  the  present  time  custom  perpetually  re-appears 
as  a  liWng  sui)pIemontary  factor;  for  it  is  only  after  judges' 
decisions  have  established  precedents  which  pleaders  after- 
wards quote,  and  subsequent  judges  follow,  that  the  applica- 
tion of  an  act  of  parliament  becomes  settled.  So  that  while 
in  the  course  of  civilization  written  law  tends  to  replace 
traditional  usage,  the  replacement  never  becomes  complete. 

And  here  we  are  again  reminded  that  law,  wliether  written 
or  unwritten,  formulates  the  rule  of  the  dead  over  the  living. 
In  addition  to  that  power  which  past  generations  exercise 
over  present  generations  by  transmitting  their  natures,  bodily 
and  mental ;  and  in  addition  to  the  power  they  exercise  over 
them  by  bequeathed  private  habits  and  modes  of  life;  there 
is  this  power  they  exercise  through  these  regulations  for  pub- 
lic conduct  handed  down  orally  or  in  writing.  Among  sav- 
ages and  in  barbarous  societies,  the  authority  of  laws  thus 
derived  is  unqualified;  and  even  in  advanced  stages  of  civili- 
zation, characterized  by  much  modifying  of  old  laws  and 
making  of  new  ones,  conduct  is  controlled  in  a  far  greater 
degree  by  the  body  of  inherited  laws  tlian  by  those  laws 
which  tlie  living  make. 

I  emphasize  these  obvious  truths  for  the  purpose  of  point- 
ing out  that  they  imply  a  tacit  ancestor-worship.  I  wish  to 
make  it  clear  that  wlien  asking  in  any  case — What  is  the 
Law?  we  are  asking — What  was  the  dictate  of  our  fore- 
fathers? And  my  object  in  doing  this  is  to  prepare  the  way 
for  sliowinn:  that  unconscious  confonnitv  to  the  dictates  of  the 


LAWS.  515 

dead,  thus  shown,  is,  in  early  stages,  joined  with  conscious 
conformity  to  theii*  dictates. 

§  530,  For  along  with  development  of  the  ghost-theory, 
there  arise  the  practice  of  appealing  to  ghosts,  and  to  the  gods 
evolved  from  ghosts,  for  directions  in  special  cases,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  general  directions  embodied  in  customs.  There 
come  methods  by  which  the  will  of  the  ancestor,  or  the  dead 
chief,  or  the  derived  deity,  is  sought;  and  the  reply  given, 
usually  referring  to  a  particular  occasion,  originates  in  some 
cases  a  precedent,  from  which  there  results  a  law  added  to  the 
body  of  laws  the  dead  have  transmitted. 

The  seeking  of  information  and  advice  from  ghosts,  takes 
here  a  supplicatory  and  there  a  coercive  form.  The  A^eddahs, 
who  ask  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors  for  aid,  believe  that  in 
dreams  they  tell  them  where  to  hunt;  and  then  we  read  of 
the  Scandinavian  diviners,  that  they  "  dragged  the  ghosts 
of  the  departed  from  their  tombs  and  forced  the  dead  to  tell 
them  what  would  happen:  "  cases  which  remind  us  that 
among  the  Hebrews,  too,  there  were  supernatural  directions 
given  in  dreams  as  well  as  information  derived  from  invoked 
spirits.  This  tendency  to  accept  special  guidance  from  the 
dead,  in  addition  to  the  general  guidance  of  an  inherited  code, 
is  traceable  in  a  transfigured  shape  even  among  ourselves; 
for  besides  conforming  to  the  orally-declared  wish  of  a  de- 
ceased parent,  children  are  often  greatly  influenced  in  their 
conduct  by  considering  what  the  deceased  parent  would  have 
desired  or  advised:  his  imagined  injunction  practically  be- 
comes a  supplementary  law. 

Here,  however,  we  are  chiefly  concerned  with  tliat  more 
developed  form  of  such  guidance  which  results  wlun-e  the 
spirits  of  distinguished  men,  regarded  with  sjiccial  ivar  and 
trust,  become  deities.  Ancient  Egyjitinn  hieroglyphics  re- 
veal two  stages  of  it.  The  "  Instructions  "  recorded  by 
King  Rash'otephet  are  given  by  his  father  in  a  dream.  "  Son 
of  the  Sun  Amenemhat — deceased: — He  says  in  a  dream — 


616  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

unto  his  son  tlie  Lord  intact, — he  says  rising  up  like  a  god : — • 
'Listen  to  what  1  speak  unto  thee.'"  And  then  another 
tablet  narrates  how  Thothmes  IV,  travelling  when  a  i)rince, 
and  taking  his  siesta  in  the  shade  of  the  Sphinx,  was  spoken 
to  in  a  dream  by  that  god,  who  said — "  Look  at  me!  .  .  . 
Answer  me  that  you  will  do  me  what  is  in  my  heart "  &c. ; 
and  when  he  ascended  the  throne,  Thothmes  fulfilled  the  in- 
junction. Analogous  stages  were  well  exemplihed  among  the 
ancient  Peruvians.  There  is  a  tradition  that  lluayna  Ccapac, 
wishing  to  marry  his  second  sister,  applied  for  assent  to  the 
dead  body  of  his  father;  "  but  the  dead  body  gave  no  answer, 
"while  fearful  signs  appeai'ed  in  the  heavens,  portending 
blood."  Moreover,  as  before  pointed  out  in  §  477,  "  the 
Ynca  gave  them  (the  vassals)  to  understand  that  all  he  did 
with  regard  to  them  was  by  an  order  and  revelation  of  his 
father,  the  Sun."  Turning  to  extant  races,  we  see  that  in  the 
Polynesian  Islands,  wliere  the  genesis  of  a  pantheon  by  ances- 
tor worshij^  is  variously  exemplified,  divine  direction  is  ha- 
bitually sought  through  priests.  Among  the  Tahitians,  one 
"  mode  by  which  the  god  intimated  his  will,"  was  to  enter 
the  priest,  who  then  "  spoke  as  entirely  under  supernatural 
influence."  Mariner  tells  us  that  in  Tonga,  too,  when  the 
natives  wished  to  consult  the  gods,  there  was  a  ceremony  of 
invocation;  and  the  ins})ired  priest  then  uttered  the  divine 
command.  Similar  beliefs  and  usages  are  described  by 
Turner  as  existing  in  Samoa.  Passing  to  another  region, 
we  find  among  the  Todas  of  the  Indian  hills,  an  a])pcal  for 
supernatural  guidance  in  judicial  matters. 
"When  any  dispute  arises  respecting  their  wives  or  their  buffaloes,  it 
has  to  be  decided  by  the  priest,  wl»o  affects  to  become  possessed  by 
the  Bell-god,  and  .  .  .  pronounces  the  deity's  decision  upon  the  point 
in  dispute." 

Those  instances  serve  to  introduce  and  interpret  for  us 
those  which  the  records  of  historic  ]ieoples  yield.  Taking 
first  the  Hebrews,  we  have  the  familiar  fact  that  the  laws 
for  general  guidance  were  supposed  to  l)e  divinely  conimuni- 
catedj  and  we  have  the  further  fact  that  special  directions 


LAWS.  517 

were  often  souglit.  Through  the  priest  who  accompanied 
the  army,  the  commander  "  inquired  of  the  Lord  "  about 
any  mihtary  movement  of  importanpe,  and  sometimes  re- 
ceived very  definite  orders;  as  when,  before  a  battle  with  the 
Phihstines,  David  is  told  to  "  fetch  a  compass  behind  them, 
and  come  upon  them  over  against  the  mulberry  trees."  Sun- 
dry Ayran  peoples  furnish  evidence.  In  common  with  other 
Indian  codes,  the  code  of  Manu,  "  according  to  Hindoo  myth- 
ology, is  an  emanation  from  the  supreme  God."  So,  too, 
was  it  with  the  Greeks.  Not  forgetting  the  tradition  that 
by  an  ancient  Cretan  king,  a  body  of  laws  was  brought  down 
from  the  mountain  where  Jupiter  was  said  to  be  buried,  we 
may  pass  to  the  genesis  of  laws  from  special  divine  com- 
mands, as  implied  in  the  Homeric  poems.  Speaking  of  these 
Grote  says : — 

"The  appropriate  Greek  word  for  human  laws  never  occurs:  amidst  a 
very  wavering  phraseology,  we  can  detect  a  gradual  transition  from 
the  primitive  idea  of  a  personal  goddess,  Themis,  attached  to  Zeus, 
first  to  his  sentences  or  orders  called  Themistes,  and  next  bj'  a  still 
farther  remove  to  various  established  customs  which  those  sentences 
were  believed  to  satisfy — the  authority  of  religion  and  that  of  custom 
coalescing  into  one  indivisible  obligation." 

Congruous  in  nature  was  the  belief  that  "  Lycurgus  ob- 
tained not  only  his  own  consecration  to  the  office  of  legis- 
lator, but  his  laws  themselves  from  the  mouth  of  the  Delphic 
God."  To  which  add  that  we  have  throughout  later  Greek 
times,  the  obtainment  of  si^ecial  information  and  direction 
through  oracles.  Evidence  that  among  the  Romans  there 
had  occurred  a  kindred 'process,  is  supplied  by  the  story  that 
the  ancient  laws  were  received  by  Numa  from  the  goddess 
Egeria;  and  that  Numa  appointed  augitrs  by  whose  inter- 
pretation of  signs  the  will  of  the  gods  was  to  be  ascertained. 
Even  in  the  ninth  century,  under  the  Carolingians,  there 
were  brought  before  the  nobles  "  articles  of  law  named 
capihda,  which  the  king  himself  had  drawn  up  by  the  in- 
spiration of  God." 

Without  following  out  the  influence  of  like  beliefs  in  later 


518  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

times,  as  seen  in  trial  by  ordeal  and  trial  by  judicial  combat, 
iu  both  of  wliieli  God  was  supposed  indirectly  to  give  judg- 
ment, the  above  evidence  makes  it  amply  manifest  that,  in 
addition  to  those  injunctions  definitely  expressed,  or  em- 
bodied in  usages  tacitly  accepted  from  seniors  and  through 
them  from  remote  ancestors,  there  are  further  injunctions 
more  consciously  attributed  to  supernatural  beings — either 
the  ghosts  of  parents  and  chiefs  who  were  personally  known, 
or  the  ghosts  of  more  ancient  traditionally-known  chiefs 
which  have  been  magnified  into  gods.  Whence  it  follows 
that  originally,  under  both  of  its  forms,  law  embodies  tlie 
dictates  of  the  dead  to  the  living. 

§  531.  And  here  w'e  arc  at  once  shown  how  it  happens  that 
throughout  early  stages  of  social  evolution,  no  distinction 
is  made  between  sacred  law  and  secular  law.  Obedience  to 
established  injunctions  of  whatever  kind,  originating  in  rev- 
erence for  supposed  supernatural  beings  of  one  or  other  order, 
it  results  that  at  first  all  these  injunctions  have  the  same 
species  of  authority. 

The  Egyptian  wall-sculptures,  inscriptions,  and  papyri, 
everywhere  expressing  subordination  of  the  present  to  the 
past,  show  us  the  universality  of  the  religious  sanction  for 
rules  of  conduct.  Of  the  Assyrians  Layard  says : — 
"The  intimate  connection  between  the  public  and  private  life  of  the 
Assyrians  and  their  religion,  is  abundantly  proved  l)y  tlie  sculptures. 
...  As  among  most  ancient  Eastern  nations,  not  only  all  public  and 
social  duties,  but  even  the  commonest  forms  and  customs,  appear  to 
have  been  more  or  less  influenced  by  religion.  .  .  .  All  his  [the  king's] 
acts,  whether  in  war  or  peace,  appear  to  have  been  connected  with 
the  national  religion,  and  were  believed  to  be  under  the  special  pro- 
tection and  superintendence  of  the  deity." 

That  among  the  Ilebrews  there  existed  a  like  connexion,  is 
conspicuously  shown  us  in  the  Pentateuch;  where,  besides 
the  commandments  specially  so-called,  and  besides  religious 
ordinances  regulating  feasts  and  sacrifices,  tlic  d<iiii;L!,s  of  the 
priests,  the  purification  by  scapegoat,  &c.,  there  arc  numerous 


LAWS.  519 

directions  for  daily  conduct — directions  concerning,  kinds  of 
food  and  modes  of  cooking;  directions  for  proper  farming  in 
respect  of  periodic  fallows,  not  sowing  mingled  grain,  (fee. ; 
directions  for.  the  management  of  those  in  bondage,  male  and 
female,  and  the  payment  of  hired  labourers ;  directions  about 
trade-transactions  and  the  sales  of  lands  and  houses;  along 
with  sumptuary  laws  extending  to  the  quality  and  fringes  of 
garments  and  the  shaping  of  beards:  instances  sufficiently 
showing  that  the  rules  of  living,  down  even  to  small  details, 
had  a  divine  origin  equally  with  the  supreme  laws  of  con- 
duct. The  like  was  true  of  the  Ayrans  in  early  stages.  The 
code  of  Manu  was  a  kindred  mixture  of  sacred  and  secular 
regulations — of  moral  dictates  and  rules  for  carrying  on  or- 
dinary affairs.  Sa^'s  Tiele  of  the  Greeks  after  the  Doric 
migration: — "  JSTo  new  political  institutions, no  fresh  culture, 
no  additional  games,  were  established  without  the  sanction 
of  the  Pythian  oracle."  And  again  we  read — 
"Chez  les  Grecs  et  chez  les  Remains,  comme  chez  les  Ilindous,  laloi  fut 
d'abord  une  partie  de  la  religion.  Les  anciens  codes  des  cit/'s  6taient 
un  ensemble  de  rites  de  prescriptions  liturgiques  de  prieres,  en  m6me 
temps  que  de  disjjositions  legislatives.  Les  regies  du  droit  de  pro- 
pri6t6  et  du  droit  de  succession  y  6taient  ^parses  au  milieu  des  regies 
des  sacrifices,  de  la  sepulture  et  du  culte  des  morts." 

Originating  in  this  manner,  law  acquires  stability.  Pos- 
sessing a  supposed  supernatural  sanction,  its  rules  have  a 
rigidity  enabling  them  to  restrain  men's  actions  in  greater 
degrees  than  could  any  rules  having  an  origin  recognized  as 
natural.  They  tend  thus  to  produce  settled  social  arrange- 
ments; both  directly,  by  their  high  authority,  and  indirectly 
by  limiting  the  actions  of  the  living  ruler.  As  was  pointed 
out  in  §  468,  early  governing  agents,  not  daring  to  trangress 
inherited  usages  and  regulations,  are  practically  limited  to  in- 
terpreting and  enforcing  them:  their  legislative  power  being- 
exercised  only  in  respect  of  matters  not  already  prescribed  for. 
Thus  of  the  ancient  Egyptians  we  read: — "  It  was  not  on  his 
[the  king's]  own  will  that  his  occupations  depended,  but  on 
those  rules  of  duty  and  propriety  which  the  wisdom  of  his 


620  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ancestors  had  framed,  with  a  just  regard  for  the  welfare  of 
the  king  and  of  his  people."  And  how  persistent  is  this 
-authority  of  the  sanctified  past  over  the  not-yet-sanctiticd 
present,  we  see  among  ourselves,  in  the  fact  that  every  legis- 
lator has  to  bind  himself  by  oath  to  maintain  certain  political 
arrangements  which  our  ancestors  thought  good  for  us. 

While  the  unchangeableness  of  law,  due  to  its  supposed 
sacred  origin,  greatly  conduces  to  social  order  during  those 
early  stages  in  which  strong  restraints  are  most  needed,  there 
of  course  results  an  unadaptiveness  which  impedes  progress 
when  there  arise  new  conditions  to  be  met.  Hence  come 
into  use  those  "  legal  fictions,"  by  the  aid  of  which  nominal 
obedience  is  reconciled  with  actual  disobedience.  Alike  in 
Roman  law  and  in  English  law,  as  pointed  out  by  Sir  Henry 
Maine,  legal  fictions  have  been  the  means  of  modifying  stat- 
utes which  were  transmitted  as  immutable;  and  so  fitting 
them  to  new  requirements:  thus  uniting  stability  with  that 
plasticity  which  allows  of  gradual  transformation. 

§  532.  Such  being  the  origin  and  nature  of  laws,  it  be- 
comes manifest  that  the  cardinal  injunction  must  be  obedi- 
ence. Conformity  to  each  i)articular  direction  pre-supposes 
allegiance  to  the  authority  giving  it;  and  therefore  the  im- 
perativeness of  subordination  to  this  authority  is  primary. 

That  direct  acts  of  insubordination,  shown  in  treason  and 
rebellion,  stand  first  in  degree  of  criminality,  evidently  fol- 
lows. This  truth  is  seen  at  the  present  time  in  South  Af- 
rica. "  According  to  a  horrible  law  of  the  Zulu  despots,  when 
a  chief  is  put  to  death  they  cxtcrinlnalc  also  his  subjects." 
It  was  illustrated  by  the  ancient  Peruvians,  among  whom 
"  a  rebellious  city  or  province  was  laid  waste,  and  its  in- 
habitants exterminated;"  and  again  by  the  ancient  Mexi- 
cans, by  whom  one  guilty  of  treachery  to  the  king  "  was  })ut 
to  death,  with  all  his  relations  to  the  fourth  degi'ec."  A  like 
extension  of  punishment  occurred  in  past  times  in  Japan, 
where,  when  "  the  offence  is  committed  against  the  state. 


LAWS.  521 

punishment  is  inflicted  upon  the  whole  race  of  the  offender." 
Of  efforts  thus  wholly  to  extinguish  families  guilty  of  dis- 
loyalty, the  Merovingians  yielded  an  instance:  king  Gunt- 
chram  swore  that  the  children  of  a  certain  rebel  should  be 
destroyed  up  to  the  ninth  generation.  And  these  examples 
naturally  recall  those  furnished  by  Hebrew  traditions.  When 
Abraham,  treating  Jaliveh  as  a  terrestrial  superior  (just  as  ex- 
isting Bedouins  regard  as  god  the  most  powerful  living  ruler 
known  to  them),  entered  into  a  covenant  under  which,  for 
territory  given,  he,  Abraham,  became  a  vassal,  circumcision 
was  the  prescribed  badge  of  subordination;  and  the  sole 
capital  offence  named  was  neglect  of  circumcision,  implying 
insubordination:  Jahveh  elsewhere  announcing  himself  as  "a 
jealous  god,"  and  threatening  punishment  "  upon  the  chil- 
dren unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate 
me."  And  the  truth  thus  variously  illustrated,  that  during 
stages  in  which  maintenance  of  authority  is  most  imperative, 
direct  disloyalty  is  considered  the  blackest  of  crimes,  we  trace 
down  through  later  stages  in  such  facts  as  that,  in  feudal  days, 
so  long  as  the  fealty  of  a  vassal  was  duly  manifested,  crimes, 
often  grave  and  numerous,  were  overlooked. 

Less  extreme  in  its  flagitiousness  than  the  direct  disobedi- 
ence implied  by  treason  and  rebellion,  is,  of  course,  the  in- 
direct disobedience  implied  by  breach  of  commands.  This, 
however,  where  strong  rule  has  been  established,  is  regarded 
as  a  serious  offence,  quite  apart  from,  and  much  exceeding, 
that  which  the  forbidden  act  intrinsically  involves.  Its 
greater  gravity  was  distinctly  enunciated  by  the  Peru\'ians, 
among  whom,  says  Garcilasso,  "  the  most  common  punish- 
ment \vas  death,  for  they  said  that  a  culprit  was  not  punished 
for  the  delincpiencies  he  had  committed,  but  for  having 
broken  the  commandment  of  the  Ynca,  who  was  respected  as 
God."  The  like  conception  meets  us  in  another  country 
where  the  absolute  ruler  is  regarded  as  divine.  Sir  R.  Alcock 
quotes  Thunberg  to  the  effect  that  in  Japan,  "most  crimes  are 
punished  with  death,  a  sentence  which  is  inflicted  with  less 


522  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

• 

rogard  to  the  magiiitiule  of  the  crime  than  to  the  audacity  of 
the  attemi)t  to  transgress  the  hallowed  laws  of  the  empire." 
And  then,  beyond  the  criminality  which  disobeying  the  ruler 
involves,  there  is  the  criminality  involved  by  damaging  the 
ruler's  property,  where  his  subjects  and  their  services  belong 
wholly  or  partly  to  him.  In  the  same  way  that  maltreating 
a  slave,  and  thereby  making  him  less  valuable,  comes  to  be 
considered  as  an  aggression  on  his  owner — in  the  same  way 
that  even  now  among  ourselves  a  father's  gTound  for  proceed- 
ing against  a  seducer  is  loss  of  his  daughter's  services;  so, 
where  the  relation  of  people  to  monarch  is  servile,  there  arises 
the  view  that  injury  done  by  one  person  to  another,  is  injury 
done  to  the  monarch's  property.  An  extreme  form  of  this 
view  is  alleged  of  Japan,  where  cutting  and  maiming  of  the 
king's  dependents  "  becomes  wounding  the  king,  or  regicide." 
And  hence  the  general  principle,  traceable  in  European  juris- 
prudence from  early  days,  that  a  transgression  of  man  against 
man  is  punishable  mainly,  or  in  large  measure,  as  a  trans- 
gression against  the  State.  It  was  thus  in  ancient  Rome: 
"  every  one  convicted  of  having  broken  the  ]iublic  peace, 
expiated  his  offence  with  his  life."  An  early  embodiment  of 
the  principle  occurs  in  the  Salic  law,  under  which  "  to  the 
ivehrgdd  is  added,  in  a  great  number  of  cases,  .  .  .  the  frcd, 
a  sum  paid  to  the  king  or  magistrate,  in  reparation  for  the 
violation  of  public  peace;  "  and  in  later  days,  the  fine  paid 
to  the  State  absorbed  the  wehrgeld.  Our  own  history  simi- 
larly shows  us  that,  as  authority  extends  and  strengthens,  the 
guilt  of  disregarding  it  takes  ])recedence  of  intrinsic  guilt. 
"  '  The  king's  peace  '  was  a  privilege,  which  attached  to  the 
sovereign's  court  and  castle,  but  which  he  could  confer  on 
other  places  and  jx-rsons,  and  which  at  once  raised  greatly 
the  penalty  of  misdeeds  coiuiiiitted  in  regard  to  them." 
Alr)ng  with  the  growing  clieck  on  the  right  of  pi"ivate  revenge 
forwrongs — alongwith  theincreasing  subor(]innfion  of  minor 
and  lociil  jurisdictions — along  with  that  strengthening  of  a 
central  authority  wliidithesechanges  imjjly," offences  against 


LAWS.  623 

the  law  become  offences  against  the  king,  and  the  crime  of 
disobedience  a  crime  of  contempt  to  be  expiated  by  a  special 
sort  of  fine."  And  we  may  easily  see  how,  where  a  ruler 
gains  absolute  power,  and  especially  where  he  has  the  prestige 
of  divine  origin,  the  guilt  of  contempt  comes  to  exceed  the 
intrinsic  guilt  of  the  forbidden  act. 

A  significant  truth  may  be  added.  On  remembering  that 
Peru,  and  Japan  till  lately,  above  named  as  countries  in 
which  the  crime  of  disobedience  to  the  ruler  was  considered 
so  great  as  practically  to  equalize  the  flagitiousness  of  all 
forbidden  acts,  had  societies  in  which  militant  organization, 
carried  to  its  extreme,  assimilated  the  social  government  at 
large  to  the  government  of  an  army;  we  are  reminded  that 
even  in  societies  like  our  own,  there  is  maintained  in  the 
army  the  doctrine  that  insubordination  is  the  cardinal  of- 
fence. Disobedience  to  orders  is  penal  irrespective  of  the 
nature  of  the  orders  or  the  motive  for  the  disobedience;  and 
an  act  which,  considered  in  itself,  is  quite  innocent,  may  be 
visited  with  death  if  done  in  opposition  to  commands. 

While,  then,  in  that  enforced  conformity  to  inherited  cus- 
toms which  plays  the  part  of  law  in  the  earliest  stages,  we 
see  insisted  upon  the  duty  of  obedience  to  ancestors  at  large, 
irrespective  of  the  injunctions  to  be  obeyed,  which  are  often 
trivial  or  absurd — while  in  the  enforced  conformity  to  special 
directions  given  in  oracular  utterances  by  priests,  or  in 
"  themistes,"  &c.,  which  form  a  supplementary  source  of  law, 
we  see  insisted  upon  the  duty  of  obedience,  in  small  things 
as  in  great,  to  certain  recognized  spirits  of  the  dead,  or  deities 
derived  from  them ;  we  also  see  that  obedience  to  the  edicts 
of  the  terrestrial  ruler,  whatever  they  may  be,  becomes,  as  his 
power  grows,  a  primary  duty. 

§  533.  What  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing  sections  brings 
out  with  clearness  the  truth  that  rules  for  the  regulation  of 
conduct  have  four  sources.  Even  in  early  stages  we  see  that 
beyond  the  inherited  usages  which  have  a  quasi-religious  sane- 


524  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

tion;  and  beyond  the  special  injunctions  of  deceased  leaders, 
which  have  a  more  distinct  religious  sanction;  there  is  some, 
though  a  slight,  amount  of  regulation  derived  from  the  will 
of  the  predominant  man;  and  there  is  also  the  eifect,  vague 
but  influential,  of  the  aggregate  opinion.  Not  dwelling  on 
the  first  of  these,  which  is  slowly  modified  by  accretions  de- 
rived from  the  others,  it  is  observable  that  in  the  second  we 
have  the  germ  of  the  law  afterwards  distinguished  as  divine; 
that  in  the  third  we  have  the  germ  of  the  law  which  gets  its 
sanction  from  allegiance  to  the  living  governor ;  and  that  in 
the  fourth  we  have  the  germ  of  the  law  which  eventually  be- 
comes recognized  as  expressing  the  public  will. 

Already  I  have  sufficiently  illustrated  those  kinds  of  laws 
which  originate  personally,  as  commands  of  a  feared  invisible 
ruler  and  a  feared  visible  ruler.  But  before  going  further,  it 
will  be  well  to  indicate  more  distinctly  the  kind  of  law  which 
originates  impersonally,  from  the  prevailing  sentiments  and 
ideas,  and  which  we  find  clearly  shown  in  rude  stages  before 
the  other  two  have  become  dominant.  A  few  extracts  will 
exhibit  it.  Schoolcraft  says  of  the  Chippewayans — 
"Thus,  though  they  have  no  regular  government,  as  every  man  is  lord 
in  his  own  family,  they  are  influenced  more  or  less  by  certain  prin- 
ciples which  conduce  to  their  general  benefit." 
Of  the  unorganized  Shoshones  Bancroft  writes — 
"  Every  man  does  as  he  likes.  Private  revenge,  of  course,  occasionally 
overtakes  the  murderer,  or,  if  the  sympathies  of  the  tribe  l)o  with  the 
murdered  man,  he  may  possibly  be  publicly  executed,  but  there  are  no 
fixed  laws  for  such  cases." 

In  like  manner  the  same  writer  tells  us  of  tlie  TTaidahs  that — 
"  Crimes  have  no  punishment  by  law;  murder  is  settled  for  with  rela- 
tives of  the  victim,  by  death  or  by  the  payment  of  a  large  sum ;  and 
sometimes  general  or  notorious  offenders,  especially  medicine-men,  are 
put  to  death  by  an  agreement  among  leading  men." 
Even  where  government  is  consideraldy  developed,  publie 
opinion  continues  to  be  an  independent  source  of  law.  Ellis 
says  that — 

"  In  cases  of  theft  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  those  who  had  been  robbed 
retaliated  upon  the  guilty  party,  by  seizing  whatever  they  could  find; 


LAWS.  525 

and  this  mode  of  obtaining  redress  was  so  supported  by  public  opinion, 
and  the  latter,  though  it  might  be  the  stronger  party,  dare  not  ot£er 
resistance." 

By  which  facts  we  are  reminded  that  where  central  authority 
and  administrative  machinery  are  feeble,  the  laws  thus  in- 
formally established  by  aggregate  feeling  are  enforced  by 
making  revenge  for  wrongs  a  socially-imposed  duty;  while 
failure  to  revenge  is  made  a  disgrace,  and  a  consequent 
danger.  In  ancient  Scandinavia,  "  a  man's  relations,  and 
friends  who  had  not  revenged  his  death,  would  instantly 
have  lost  that  reputation  which  constituted  their  princijjal 
security."  So  that,  obscured  as  this  source  of  law  becomes 
when  the  i:)opular  element  in  the  triune  political  structure  is 
entirely  subordinated,  yet  it  was  originally  conspicuous,  and 
never  ceases  to  exist.  And  now  having  noted  the  presence 
of  this,  along  with  the  other  mingled  sources  of  law,  let  us  ob- 
serve how  the  several  sources,  along  with  their  derived  laws, 
gradually  become  distinguished. 

Recalling  the  proofs  above  given  that  where  there  has 
been  established  a  definite  political  authority,  inherited  from 
apotheosized  chiefs  and  made  strong  by  divine  sanction,  laws 
of  all  kinds  have  a  religious  character;  we  have  first  to  note 
that  a  differentiation  takes  place  between  those  regarded  as 
sacred  and  those  recognized  as  secular.  An  illustration,  of 
this  advance  is  furnished  us  by  the  Greeks.  Describing  the 
state  of  things  exhibited  in  the  Homeric  poems,  Grote  re- 
marks that  "  there  is  no  sense  of  obligation  then  existing,  be- 
tween man  and  man  as  such — and  very  little  between  each 
man  and  the  entire  community  of  which  he  is  a  member;  " 
while,  at  the  same  time,  "  the  tie  which  binds  a  man  to  his 
father,  his  kinsman,  his  guest,  or  any  special  promisee 
towards  whom  he  has  taken  the  engagement  of  an  oath,  is 
conceived  in  conjunction  with  the  idea  of  Zeus,  as  witness 
and  guarantee:  "  allegiance  to  a  divinity  is  the  source  of 
obligation.  But  in  historical  Athens,  "  the  great  impersonal 
authority  called  '  The  Laws  '  stood  out  separately,  both  as 


526  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

guide  and  sanction,  distinct  from  religious  duty  or  private 
sj'mpathies."  And  at  the  same  time  there  arose  the  distinc- 
tion between  breach  of  the  sacred  hiw  and  breach  of  the  secu- 
\nT  law:  "  the  murderer  came  to  be  considered,  first  as  hav- 
ing sinned  against  the  gods,  next  as  having  deeply  injured 
the  society,  and  thus  at  once  as  requiring  absolution  and  de- 
serving punishment."  A  kindred  differentiation  early 
occurred  in  Rome.  Though,  during  the  primitive  period, 
the  head  of  the  State,  at  once  king  and  high  priest,  and  in 
his  latter  capacity  dressed  as  a  god,  was  thus  the  mouth-piece 
of  both  sacred  law  and  secular  law;  yet,  afterwards,  with  the 
separation  of  the  ecclesiastical  and  political  authorities,  came 
a  distinction  between  breaches  of  divine  ordinances  and 
breaches  of  human  ordinances.  In  the  words  of  Sir  Henry 
Maine,  there  were  "  laws  punishing  sins.  There  were  also 
laws  punishing  torts.  The  conception  of  offence  against 
God  i^roduced  the  first  class  of  ordinances ;  the  conception  of 
offence  against  one's  neighbour  produced  the  second;  but 
the  idea  of  offence  against  the  State  or  aggregate  community 
did  not  at  first  produce  a  true  criminal  jurisprudence."  In 
explanation  of  the  last  statement  it  should,  however,  be 
added  that  since,  during  the  regal  period,  according  to 
Mommsen,  "  judicial  procedure  took  the  form  of  a  public 
or  a  private  process,  according  as  the  king  interposed  of 
his  own  motion,  or  only  when  appealed  to  by  the  injured 
party;  "  and  since  "  the  former  course  was  taken  only  in 
cases  which  invohcd  :i  breach  of  tlic  piililic  ]ieace;  "  it  must 
be  inferred  that  when  kingship  cc^ascd,  there  survived  the 
distinction  between  transgression  against  the  individual 
and  transgression  against  the  State,  though  the  mode  of 
dealing  with  this  last  had  not,  for  a  time,  a  detinite 
form.  Again,  even  among  the  Hebrews,  more  per- 
sistently theocratic  as  their  social  system  was,  we  see  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  this  change,  at  the  same  time  that  we 
are  shown  one  of  its  causes.  The  ^lishna  contains  many 
detailed  civil  laws;  and  these  manifestly  resulted  from  the 


LAWS.  527 

growing  complication  of  affairs.  The  instance  is  one  show- 
ing us  that  primitive  sacred  commands,  originating  as  they 
do  in  a  comparatively  undeveloped  state  of  society,  fail  to 
cover  the  cases  which  arise  as  institutions  become  involved. 
In  respect  of  these  there  consequently  grow  up  rules  having 
a  known  human  authority  only.  By  accumulation  of  such 
rules,  is  produced  a  body  of  human  laws  distinct  from  the 
divine  laws;  and  the  offence  of  disobeying  the  one  becomes 
unlike  the  offence  of  disobeying  the  other.  Though 

in  Christianized  Europe,  throughout  which  the  indigenous 
religions  were  superseded  by  an  introduced  religion,  the 
differentiating  process  was  interfered  with;  yet,  on  setting 
out  from  the  stage  at  which  this  introduced  religion  had  ac- 
quired that  supreme  authority  proper  to  indigenous  religions, 
we  see  that  the  subsequent  changes  were  of  like  nature  witli 
those  above  described.  Along  with  that  mingling  of  struc- 
tures shown  in  the  ecclesiasticism  of  kings  and  the  secularity 
of  prelates,  there  went  a  mingling  of  political  and  religious 
legislation.  Gaining  supreme  power,  the  Church  interpreted 
sundry  civil  offences  as  offences  against  God ;  and  even  those 
which  were  left  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  magistrate  were  con- 
sidered as  thus  left  by  divine  ordinance.  But  subsequent 
evolution  brought  about  stages  in  which  various  transgres- 
sions, held  to  be  committed  against  both  sacred  and  secular 
law,  were  simultaneously  expiated  by  religious  penance  and 
civil  punishment;  and  there  followed  a  separation  which, 
leaving  but  a  small  remnant  of  ecclesiastical  offences,  brought 
the  rest  into  the  category  of  offences -against  the  State  and 
against  individuals. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  differentiation  of  equal,  if  not 
greater,  significance,  between  those  laws  which  derive  their 
obligation  from  the  will  of  the  governing  agency,  and  those 
laws  wliich  derive  their  obligation  from  the  consensus  of  in- 
dividual interests — between  those  laws  which,  having  as  their 
direct  end  the  maintenance  of  authority,  only  indirectly 
thereby  conduce  to  social  welfare,  and  those  which,  directly 


528  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

and  irrespective  of  authority,  conduce  to  social  welfare:  of 
Avliich  last,  law,  in  its  modern  form,  is  substantially  an  elab- 
oration. Already  1  have  pointed  out  that  the  kind  of  law 
initiated  by  the  consensus  of  individual  interests,  precedes 
the  kind  of  law  initiated  by  political  authority.  Already  I 
have  said  that  though,  as  political  authority  develops,  laws 
acquire  the  shape  of  commands,  even  to  the  extent  that  those 
original  principles  of  social  order  tacitly  recognized  at  the 
outset,  come  to  be  regarded  as  obligatory  only  because  per- 
sonally enacted,  yet  that  the  obligation  derived  from  the 
consensus  of  individual  interests  survives,  if  obscured.  And 
here  it  remains  to  show  that  as  the  power  of  the  political  head 
declines — as  industrialism  fosters  an  increasingly  free  popu- 
lation— as  the  third  element  in  the  triune  political  structure, 
long  subordinated,  grows  again  predominant;  there  again 
grows  predominant  this  primitive  source  of  law — the  con- 
sensus of  individual  interests.  We  have  further  to  note  that 
in  its  re-developed  form,  as  in  its  original  form,  the  kind  of 
law  hence  arising  has  a  character  radically  distinguishing  it 
from  the  kinds  of  law  thus  far  considered.  Both  the  divine 
laws  and  the  human  laws  which  originate  from  personal  au- 
thority, have  inequality  as  their  common  essential  principle; 
while  the  laws  which  originate  impersonally,  in  the  consensus 
of  individual  interests,  have  equality  as  their  essential  princi- 
ple. Evidence  is  furnished  at  the  very  outset.  For  what  is 
this  lex  talionis  which,  in  the  rudest  hordes  of  men,  is  not 
only  recognized  but  enforced  by  general  opinion?  Obviously, 
as  enjoining  an  equalization  of  injuries  or  losses,  it  tacitly 
assumes  equality  of  claims  among  the  individuals  concerned. 
The  principle  of  requiring  "  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for 
a  tooth,"  embodies  the  primitive  idea  of  justice  everywhere: 
the  endeavour  to  effect  an. exact  balance  being  sometimes 
quite  curious.  Thus  we  read  in  Arbousset  and  Daumas: — 
"  A  Baanto  whose  snn  hnd  born  woTindpd  on  the  head  with  a  staff, 
came  to  entreat  mo  to  deliver  up  tlie  offender, — 'with  the  same  stall 
and  on  the  same  spot  where  my  son  was  beaten,  will  I  give  a  blow  on 
the  Lead  of  the  man  who  did  it.' " 


LAWS.  529 

A  kindred  effort  to  equalize  in  this  literal  way,  the  offence 
and  the  expiation,  occurs  in  Abyssinia ;  where,  when  the  mur- 
derer is  given  over  to  his  victim's  family,  "  the  nearest  of 
kin  puts  him  to  death  with  the  same  kind  of  weapon  as  that 
with  which  he  had  slain  their  relative."  As  the  last  case 
shows,  this  primitive  procedure,  when  it  does  not  assume 
the  form  of  inflicting  injury  for  injury  between  individuals, 
assumes  the  form  of  inflicting  injury  for  injury  between 
families  or  tribes,  by  taking  life  for  life.  With  the  instances 
gi-\'en  in  §  522  may  be  joined  one  from  Sumatra. 
"When  in  an  affray  [between  families],  there  happen  to  be  several 
persons  killed  on  both  sides,  the  business  of  justice  is  only  to  state 
the  reciprocal  losses,  in  the  form  of  an  account  current,  and  order  the 
balance  to  be  discharged  if  the  numbers  be  unequal. " 
And  then,  from  this  rude  justice  which  insists  on  a  balancing 
of  losses  between  families  or  tribes,  it  results  that  eo  long  as 
their  mutual  injuries  are  equalized,  it  matters  not  whether 
the  blameable  persons  are  or  are  not  those  who  suffer;  and 
hence  the  system  of  vicarious  punishment — hence  the  fact 
that  vengeance  is  wreaked  on  any  member  of  the  transgressing 
family  or  tribe.  Moreover,  ramifying  in  these  various  ways, 
the  principle  applies  where  not  life  but  property  is  concerned. 
Schoolcraft  tells  us  that  among  the  Dakotas,  "  injury  to 
property  is  sometimes  privately  revenged  by  destroying  other 
property  in  place  thereof;  "  and  among  the  Araucanians, 
families  pillage  one  another  for  the  purpose  of  making  their 
losses  alike.  The  idea  survives,  though  changed  in 

form,  when  crimes  come  to  be  compounded  for  by  gifts  or 
payments.  Very  early  we  see  arising  the  alternative  between 
submitting  to  vengeance  or  making  compensation.  Kane 
says  of  certain  North  American  races,  tliat  "  horses  or  other 
Indian  valuables  "  were  accepted  in  compensation  for  mur- 
der. With  the  Dakotas  "  a  present  of  white  wampum,"  if  ac- 
cepted, condones  the  offence.  Among  the  Araucanians, 
homicides  "  can  screen  themselves  from  punishment  by  a 
composition  with  the  relations  of  the  mnrdored."  "Recalling, 
as  these  few  instances  do,  the  kindred  alternatives  recognized 


530  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

throughout  primitive  Europe,  they  also  make  us  aware  of  a 
siguilicant  ditftTciice.  For  with  the  rise  of  class-distinctions 
in  primitive  Europe,  the  rates  of  compensation,  equal  among 
members  of  each  class,  had  ceased  to  be  equal  between  mem- 
bers of  diiferent  classes.  Along  with  the  growth  of  person- 
ally-derived law,  there  had  been  a  departure  from  the  im- 
personally-derived law  as  it  origiually  existed. 

But  uow  the  truth  to  be  noted  is  that,  with  the  relative 
weakening  of  kingly  or  aristocratic  authority  and  relative 
strengthening  of  popular  authority,  there  revives  the  par- 
tially-suppressed kind  of  law  derived  from  the  consensus 
of  individual  interests;  and  the  kind  of  law  thus  originating 
tends  continually  to  replace  all  other  law.  For  the  chief 
business  of  courts  of  justice  at  present,  is  to  enforce,  without 
respect  of  persons,  the  principle,  recognized  before  govern- 
ments arose,  that  all  members  of  the  community,  however 
otherwise  distinguished,  shall  be  similarly  dealt  with  when 
they  aggress  one  upon  another.  Though  the  equalization 
of  injuries  by  retaliation  is  no  longer  permitted;  and  though 
the  government,  reserving  to  itself  the  punishment  of  trans- 
gressors, does  little  to  enforce  restitution  or  compensation; 
yet,  in  pursuance  of  the  doctrine  that  all  men  are  equal  be- 
fore the  law,  it  has  the  same  punishment  for  transgressors  of 
every  class.  And  then  in  respect  of  unfulfilled  contracts  or 
disputed  debts,  from  the  important  ones  tried  at  Assizes  to  the 
trivial  ones  settled  in  County  Courts,  its  aim  is  to  maintain 
the  rights  and  obligations  of  citizens  without  regard  for 
wealth  or  rank.  Of  course  in  our  transition  state  the  change 
is  incomplete.  But  the  symjiathy  with  individual  claims, 
and  the  consensus  of  individual  interests  accompanying  it, 
lead  to  an  increasing  predominance  of  that  kind  of  law  which 
provides  directly  for  social  order;  as  distinguislied  from 
that  kind  of  law  which  indirectly  provides  for  social  order 
by  insisting  on  oliedience  to  authority,  divine  or  human. 
With  decline  of  the  rhjimc  of  status  and  growth  of  the 
regime  of  contract,  personally-derived  law  more  and  more 


LAWS.  531 

gives  place  to  impersonally-derived  law ;  and  this  of  necessity, 
since  a  formulated  inequality  is  implied  by  the  compulsory 
cooperation  of  the  one,  while,  by  the  voluntary  cooperation  of 
the  other,  there  is  implied  a  formulated  equality. 

So  that,  having  first  differentiated  from  the  laws  of  sup- 
posed divine  origin,  the  laws  of  recognized  human  origin 
subsequently  re-diif  erentiate  into  those  which  ostensibly  have 
the  will  of  the  ruling  agency  as  their  predominant  sanction, 
and  those  which  ostensibly  have  the  aggregate  of  private  in- 
terests as  their  predominant  sanction;  of  which  two  the  last 
tends,  in  the  course  of  social  evolution,  more  and  more  to  ab- 
sorb the  first.  Necessarily,  however,  while  militancy  con- 
tinues, the  absorption  remains  incomplete;  since  obedience 
to  a  ruling  will  continues  to  be  in  some  cases  necessary. 

§  534.  A  right  understanding  of  this  matter  is  so  impor- 
tant, that  I  must  be  excused  for  briefly  presenting  two  further 
aspects  of  the  changes  described :  one  concerning  the  accom- 
panying sentiments,  and  the  other  concerning  the  accom- 
panying theories. 

As  laws  originate  partly  in  the  customs  inherited  from  the 
undistinguished  dead,  partly  in  the  special  injunctions  of  the 
distinguished  dead,  partly  in  the  average  will  of  the  undis- 
tinguished living,  and  partly  in  the  will  of  the  distinguished 
living,  the  feelings  responding  to  them,  allied  though  differ- 
ent, are  mingled  in  proportions  that  vary  under  diverse  cir- 
cumstances. 

According  to  the  nature  of  the  society,  one  or  other  sanc- 
tion predominates;  and  the  sentiment  appropriate  to  it  ob- 
scures the  sentiments  appropriate  to  the  others,  without,  how- 
ever, obliterating  them.  Thus  in  a  theocratic  society,  the 
crime  of  murder  is  punished  primarily  as  a  sin  against  God ; 
but  not  witliout  there  being  some  consciousness  of  its  crim- 
inality as  a  disobedience  to  the  human  ruler  who  enforces  the 
divine  command,  as  well  as  an  injury  to  a  family,  and,  by  im- 
plication, to  the  community.  AVhere,  as  among  the  Bedouin^ 
1)3 


533  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

or  iu  Sumatra,  there  is  no  such  supernaturally-derived  iu- 
juiR'tion,  and  no  consequent  reprobation  of  disobedience  to 
it,  the  loss  entailed  on  the  family  of  the  victim  is  the  injury 
recognized;  and,  consequently,  murder  is  not  distinguished 
from  manslaughter.  Again,  in  Japan  and  in  Peru,  unquali- 
fied absoluteness  of  the  living  ruler  is,  or  was,  accompanied 
by  the  belief  that  the  criminality  of  murder  consisted  pri- 
marily in  transgression  of  his  commands;  though  doubtless 
the  establishment  of  such  commands  implied,  both  in  ruler 
and  people,  some  recognition  of  evil,  individual  or  general, 
caused  by  breach  of  them.  In  ancient  Rome,  the  conscious- 
ness of  injury  done  to  the  community  by  murder  was  decided ; 
and  the  feeling  enlisted  on  behalf  of  public  order  was  that 
wliich  mainly  enforced  the  punishment.  And  then  among 
ourseh'es  when  a  murder  is  committed,  the  listener  to  an  ac- 
count of  it  shudders  not  mainly  because  the  alleged  command 
of  God  has  been  broken,  nor  mainly  because  there  has  been  a 
breach  of  "  the  Queen's  peace;  "  but  his  strongest  feeling  of 
reprobation  is  that  excited  by  the  thought  of  a  life  taken 
away,  with  which  is  joined  a  secondary  feeling  due  to  the 
diminution  of  social  safety  which  every  such  act  im- 
plies. In  these  different  emotions  wdiich  give  to  these 
several  sanctions  their  respective  powers,  we  see  the  normal 
concomitants  of  the  social  states  to  which  such  sanctions  are 
appropriate.  More  especially  we  see  how  that  weakening  of 
the  sentiments  offended  by  breaches  of  authority,  divine  or 
human,  which  accompanies  growth  of  the  sentiments  offended 
by  injuries  to  individuals  and  the  community,  is  naturally 
joined  with  revival  of  that  kind  of  law  which  originate  in  the 
consensus  of  individual  interests — the  law  which  was  dom- 
inant before  por^^onal  authority  grew  u]>,  and  which  again 
becomes  dominant  as  jjcrsonal  authority  declines. 

At  the  same  time  there  goes  on  a  parallel  change  of  theory. 
Along  witli  a  rule  predomiuantly  tlieocratic,  tlierc  is  current 
a  tacit  or  avowed  doctrine,  tlint  the  acts  prescrilxnl  or  for- 
bidden are  made  right  or  wrong  solely  by  (li\iiie  eoinuiand; 


LAWS.  533 

and  though  this  doctrine  survives  through  subsequent  stages 
(as  it  does  still  in  our  own  religious  world),  yet  belief  in  it 
becomes  nominal  rather  than  real.  Where  there  has  been 
established  an  absolute  human  authority,  embodied  in  a  sin- 
gle individual,  or,  as  occasionally,  in  a  few,  there  comes  the 
theory  that  law  has  no  other  source  than  the  will  of  this  au- 
thority: acts  are  conceived  as  proper  or  improper  according 
as  they  do  or  do  not  conform  to  its  dictates.  With  progress 
towards  a  popular  form  of  government,  this  theory'  becomes 
modified  to  the  extent  that  though  the  obligation  to  do  this 
and  refrain  from  that  is  held  to  arise  from  State-enactment; 
yet  the  authority  which  gives  this  enactment  its  force  is  the 
public  desire.  Still  it  is  observable  that  along  with  a  tacit 
implication  that  the  consensus  of  individual  interests  af- 
fords the  warrant  for  law,  there  goes  the  overt  assertion  that 
this  warrant  is  derived  from  the  formulated  will  of  the  ma- 
jority :  no  question  being  raised  whether  this  formulated  will 
is  or  is  not  congruous  vntli  the  consensus  of  indiwidual  inter- 
ests. In  this  current  theory  there  obviously  survives  the 
old  idea  that  there  is  no  other  sanction  for  law  than  the  com- 
mand of  embodied  authority;  though  the  authority  is  now 
a  widely  different  one. 

But  this  theory,  much  in  favour  with  "  philosophical  poli- 
ticians," is  a  transitional  theory.  The  ultimate  theory,  which 
it  foreshadows,  is  that  the  soiu'ce  of  legal  obligation  is  the 
consensus  of  individual  interests  itself,  and  not  the  will  of  a 
majority  determined  by  their  opinion  concerning  it;  which 
may  or  may  not  be  right.  Already,  even  in  legal  theory, 
especially  as  expounded  by  French  jurists,  natural  law  or  law 
of  nature,  is  recognized  as  a  source  of  formulated  law:  the 
admission  being  thereby  made  that,  primarily  certain  indi- 
vidual claims,  and  secondarily  the  social  welfare  furthered 
by  enforcing  such  claims,  furnish  a  warrant  for  law,  ante- 
ceding  political  authority  and  its  enactments.  Already  in 
the  qualiiication  of  Common  Law  by  Equity,  which  avowedly 
proceeds  upon  the  law  of  ''  lionesiy  and  reason  and  of  na- 


534  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

lions,"  there  is  involved  the  pre-supposition  that,  as  similarly- 
constituted  beings,  men  have  certain  rights  in  common, 
maintenance  of  whicli,  while  directly  advantageous  to  them 
individually,  indirectly  benefits  the  community;  and  that 
thus  the  decisions  of  eciuity  have  a  sanction  independent  alike 
of  customary  law  and  parliamentary  votes.  ^Vlrcady  in  re- 
spect of  religious  opinions  there  is  practically  conceded  the 
right  of  the  individual  to  disobey  the  law,  even  though  it  ex- 
presses the  will  of  a  majority.  Whatever  disapproval  there 
may  be  of  him  as  a  law-breaker,  is  over-ridden  by  sympathy 
with  his  assertion  of  freedom  of  judgment.  There  is  a  tacit 
recognition  of  a  w^arrant  higher  than  that  of  State-enact- 
ments, whether  regal  or  popular  in  origin.  These  ideas  and 
feelings  are  all  significant  of  progTcss  towards  the  view, 
proper  to  the  developed  industrial  state,  that  the  justification 
for  a  law  is  that  it  enforces  one  or  other  of  the  conditions  to 
harmonious  social  cooperation;  and  that  it  is  unjustified  (en- 
acted by  no  matter  how  high  an  authority  or  how  general  an 
opinion)  if  it  traverses  these  conditions. 

And  this  is  tantamount  to  saying  that  the  impersonally- 
derived  law  which  revives  as  personally-derived  law  declines, 
and  which  gives  expression  to  the  consensus  of  individual  in- 
terests, becomes,  in  its  final  form,  simply  an  applied  system  of 
ethics — or  rather,  of  that  part  of  ethics  wliich  concerns  men's 
just  relations  with  one  another  and  with -the  community. 

§  535.  Returning  from  this  somewhat  parenthetical  dis- 
cussion, we  might  here  enter  on  the  development  of  laws,  not 
generally  but  specially;  exhibiting  them  as  accumulating  in 
mass,  as  dividing  and  sub-dividing  in  their  kinds,  as  becom- 
ing increasingly  definite,  as  growing  into  coherent  and  com- 
plex systems,  as  undergoing  adaptations  to  new  conditions. 
But  besides  occupying  too  much  space,  such  an  exposition 
would  fall  outside  the  lines  of  our  subject.  Present  require- 
ments are  satisfied  by  the  results  above  set  forth,  wliich  may 
l)e  summarized  as  follows. 


LAWS.  535 

Setting  out  with  the  truth,  illustrated  even  in  the  very 
rudest  tribes,  that  the  ideas  conveyed,  sentiments  inculcated, 
and  usages  taught,  to  children  by  parents  who  themselves 
were  similarly  taught,  eventuate  in  a  rigid  set  of  customs ;  we 
recognize  the  fact  that  at  first,  as  to  the  last,  law  is  mainly  an 
embodiment  of  ancestral  injunctions. 

To  the  injunctions  of  the  undistinguished  dead,  which 
qualified  by  the  public  opinion  of  the  living  in  cases  not  pre- 
scribed for,  constitute  the  code  of  conduct  before  any  political 
organization  has  arisen,  there  come  to  be  added  the  injunc- 
tions of  tlie  distinguished  dead,  when  there  have  arisen  chiefs 
who,  in  some  measure  feared  and  obeyed  during  life,  after 
death  give  origin  to  ghosts  still  more  feared  and  obeyed. 
And  wdien,  during  that  compounding  of  societies  effected  by 
war,  such  chiefs  develop  into  kings,  their  remembered  com- 
mands and  the  commands  supposed  to  be  given  by  their 
ghosts,  become  a  sacred  code  of  conduct,  partly  embodying 
and  parth'  adding  to  the  code  pre-established  by  custom. 
The  living  ruler,  able  to  legislate  only  in  respect  of  matters 
unprovided  for,  is  bound  by  these  transmitted  commands  of 
the  unknown  and  the  known  who  have  passed  away;  save 
only  in  cases  where  the  living  ruler  is  himself  regarded  as 
divine,  in  which  cases  his  injunctions  become  laws  having  a 
like  sacredness.  Hence  the  trait  common  to  societies  in  early 
stages,  that  the  prescribed  rules  of  conduct  of  whatever  kind 
have  a  religious  sanction.  Sacrificial  observances,  public 
duties,  moral  injunctions,  social  ceremonies,  habits  of  life, 
industrial  regulations,  and  even  modes  of  dressing,  stand  on 
the  same  footing. 

Maintenance  of  the  unchangeable  rules  of  conduct  "thus 
originating,  which  is  requisite  for  social  stability  during  those 
stages  in  which  the  type  of  nature  is  yet  but  little  fitted  for 
harmonious  social  coo]:)cration,  pre-supposes  implicit  obedi- 
ence; and  hence  disobedience  becomes  the  blackest  crime. 
Treason  and  rebellion,  whether  against  the  divine  or  the 
human  ruler,  bring  penalties  exceeding  all  others  in  severity. 


536  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

The  breaking  of  a  law  is  ])nnisliecl  luit  because  of  the  intrinsic 
criminality  of  the  act  connnitted,  but  because  of  the  implied 
insubordination.  And  the  disregard  of  governmental  au- 
thority continues,  through  subsc(|uent  stages,  to  constitute, 
in  legal  theory,  the  primary  element  in  a  transgression. 

In  societies  that  become  large  and  complex,  there  arise 
forms  of  activity  and  intercourse  uot  provided  for  in  the 
sacred  code;  and  in  respect  of  these  the  ruler  is  free  to  make 
regulations.  As  such  regulations  accumulate  there  comes 
into  existence  a  body  of  laws  of  known  huniau  origin;  and 
though  this  acquires  an  authority  due  to  reverence  for  the 
men  who  made  it  and  the  generations  whicli  approved  it,  yet 
it  has  not  the  sacredness  of  the  god-descended  body  of  laws : 
human  law  differentiates  from  divine  law.  But  in  societies 
which  remain  predominanth'  militant,  these  two  bodies  of 
laws  continue  similar  in  the  respect  that  they  have  a  person- 
ally-derived authority.  The  avowed  reason  for  obeying  them 
is  that  they  express  the  will  of  a  divine  ruler,  or  the  will  of 
a  human  ruler,  or,  occasionally,  the  will  of  an  irresponsible 
oligarchy. 

But  with  the  progress  of  industrialism  and  growth  of  a 
free  population  which  gradually  acquires  political  power,  the 
humanly-derived  law  begins  to  sub-divide;  aud  that  part 
which  originates  in  the  consensus  of  individual  interests, 
begins  to  dominate  over  the  part  which  originates  in  the 
authority  of  the  ruler.  So  long'as  the  social  type  is  one 
organized  on  the  principle  of  compulsory  cooperation,  law, 
having  to  maintain  this  compulsory  cooperation,  must  be 
primarily  concerned  in  regulating  sialiis,  maintaining  in- 
equality, enforcing  authority;  and  can  but  secondarily  con- 
sider the  individual  interests  of  those  forming  the  mass. 
But  in  proportion  as  the  principle  of  voluntary  cooperation 
more  and  more  characterizes  the  social  type,  fulfilment  of 
contracts  and  implied  assertion  of  equality  in  men's  rights, 
become  the  fundamental  requirements,  and  the  consensus  of 
individual  interests  the  chief  source  of  law:  such  authority 


LAWS.  537 

as  law  otherwise  derived  continues  to  liave,  Leing  recognized 
as  secondary,  and  insisted  upon  only  because  maintenance  of 
law  for  its  own  sake  indirectly  furthers  the  general  welfare. 
Finally,  we  see  that  the  systems  .of  laws  belonging  to  these 
successive  stages,  are  severally  accompanied  by  the  senti- 
ments and  theories  appropriate  to  them ;  and  that  the  theories 
at  present  current,  adapted  to  the  existing  compromise  be- 
tween militancy  and  industrialism,  are  steps  towards  the  ulti- 
mate theory,  in  conformity  with  which  law  will  have  no 
other  justification  than  that  gained  by  it  as  maintainer  of 
the  conditions  to  complete  life  in  the  associated  state. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 


PROPERTY. 


§  536.  The  fact  referred  to  in  §  292,  that  even  intelHgent 
animals  display  a  sense  of  proprietorship,  negatives  the  belief 
propounded  bv  some,  that  individual  property  was  not  recog- 
nized by  primitive  men.  AVhen  we  see  the  claim  to  exclusive 
possession  understood  by  a  dog,  so  that  he  fights  in  defence 
of  his  master's  clothes  if  left  in  charge  of  them,  it  becomes 
impossible  to  suppose  that  even  in  their  lowest  state  men 
were  devoid  of  those  ideas  and  emotions  which  initiate  private 
ownership.  All  that  may  be  fairly  assumed  is  that  these 
ideas  and  sentiments  were  at  first  less  developed  than  they 
have  since  become. 

It  is  true  that  in  some  extremely  rude  hordes,  rights  of 

property  are  but  little  respected.     Lichtenstein  tells  us  that 

among  the  Bushmen,  "  tlie  weaker,  if  he  would  preserve  his 

own  life,  is  obliged  to  resign  to  the  stronger,  his  wea]ions,  his 

wife,  and  even  his  children;  "  and  there  are  some  degraded 

Xorth  American  tribes  in  which  there  is  no  check  on  the 

more  powerful  who  choose  to  take  from  the  less  powerful : 

their  acts  are  held  to  be  legitimized  by  success.     But  absence 

of  the  idea  of  property,  and  the  accompanying  sentiment, 

is  no  more  implied  by  these  forcible  appropriations  than  it 

is  implied  by  the  forcible  appropriation  which    a  bigger 

schoolboy  makes  of  the  toy  belonging  to  a  less.  It 

is  also  true  that  even  where  force  is  not  used,  individual 

538 


PROPERTY.  539 

claims  are  in  considerable  degrees  over-ridden  or  imperfectly 
maintained.  We  read  of  the  Chippewayans  that  "  Indian 
law  requires  the  successfnl  hunter  to  share  the  spoils  of  the 
chase  with  all  present;  "  and  Hillhouse  says  of  the  Arawaks 
that  though  individual  property  is  "  distinctly  marked 
amongst  them,"  "  yet  they  are  perpetually  borrowing  and 
lending,  without  the  least  care  about  payment."  But  such 
instances  merely  imply  that  private  ownership  is  at  first  ill- 
defined,  as  we  might  expect,  a  priori,  that  it  would  be. 

Evidently  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  accompany  the 
act  of  taking  possession,  as  when  an  animal  clutches  its  prey, 
and  which  at  a  higher  stage  of  intelligence  go  along  with  the 
grasping  of  any  article  indirectly  conducing  to  gratification, 
are  the  thoughts  and  feelings  to  which  the  theory  of  property 
does  but  give  a  precise  shape.  Evidently  the  use  in  legal 
documents  of  such  expressions  as  "  to  have  and  to  hold,"  and 
to  be  "  seized  "  of  a  thing,  as  well  as  the  survival  up  to  com- 
paratively late  times  of  ceremonies  in  w^hich  a  portion  (rock 
or  soil)  of  an  estate  bought,  representing  the  whole,  actually 
passed  from  hand  to  hand,  point  back  to  this  primitive  phys- 
ical basis  of  ownership.  Evidently  the  developed  doctrine 
of  property,  accompanying  a  social  state  in  which  men's  acts 
have  to  be  mutually  restrained,  is  a  doctrine  which  on  the 
one  hand  asserts  the  freedom  to  take  and  to  keep  within 
specified  limits,  and  denies  it  beyond  those  limits — gives 
positiveness  to  the  claim  while  restricting  it.  And  evidently 
the  increasing  definiteness  thus  given  to  rights  of  individual 
possession,  may  be  expected  to  show  itself  first  where  defini- 
tion is  relatively  easy  and  afterwards  where  it  is  less  easy. 
This  we  shall  find  that  it  does. 

§  537.  "While  in  early  stages  it  is  difficult,  not  to  say  im- 
possible, to  establish  and  mark  off  individual  claims  to  parts 
of  the  area  wandered  over  in  search  of  food,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  mark  off  the  claims  to  movable  things  and  to  liabitations; 
and  these  claims  we  find  habitually  recognized.     The  follow- 


540  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

ing  passage  from  Baucrof  t  coueeruing  certain  North  Ameru-au 
savages,  well  illustrates  the  distinction : — 

"  Captain  Cook  found  among  tlie  Alits  very  '  strict  notions  of  their 
having  a  right  to  the  exclusive  property  of  everything  that  their 
country  produces,'  so  that  they  claimed  pay  for  even  wood,  water,  and 
grass.  The  limits  of  tribal  property  are  very  clearly  defined,  but  in- 
dividuals rarely  claim  any  property  in  land.  Houses  belong  to  the 
men  who  combine  to  build  them.  Private  wealth  consists  of  boats  and 
implements  for  obtaining  food,  domestic  utensils,  slaves,  and  blankets." 
A  like  condition  is  shown  us  bv  the  Conianches: — 
"They  recognize  no  distinct  right  of  meum  and  tuuvi,  except  to  per- 
sonal proj)erty ;  holding  the  territory  they  occupy,  and  the  game  that 
depastures  upon  it,  as  common  to  all  the  tribe :  the  latter  is  appro- 
priated only  by  capture." 

xVnd  the  fact  that  among  these  Comanches,  as  among  other 
peoples,  "  prisoners  of  war  belong  to  the  captors,  and  may  be 
sold  or  released  at  their  will,"  further  shows  that  the  right  of 
property  is  asserted  where  it  is  easily  defined.  Of  the  Bra- 
zilian Indians,  again,  Yon  Martius  tells  us  that, — 
"Huts  and  utensils  are  considered  as  private  property;  but  even  with 
regard  to  them  certain  ideas  of  common  possession  prevail.  The  same 
hut  is  often  occupied  by  more  families  than  one ;  and  many  utensils 
are  the  joint  property  of  all  the  occupants.  Scarcely  anything  is  con- 
sidered strictly  as  the  property  of  an  individual  except  his  arms, 
accoutrements,  pipe,  and  hammock." 

Dr.  Rink's  account  of  the  Esquimaux  shows  that  among 
them,  too,  while  there  is  joint  owncrsliip  of  houses  made 
jointly  by  the  families  inhabiting  them,  there  is  separate 
ownership  of  weapons,  fishing  boats,  tools,  etc.  Thus  it  is 
made  manifest  that  private  right,  completely  recognized 
where  recognition  of  it  is  easy,  is  partially  recognized  where 
partial  recognition  only  is  possible — where  the  private  rights 
of  companions  are  entangled  with  it.  Instances  of  other 
kinds  equally  prove  that  among  savages  claims  to  possession 
are  habitually  marked  off  when  ])ractical)le:  if  not  fully,  yet 
partially.  Of  the  Cbippewayans  "  who  have  no  regular 
government  "  to  make  laws  or  arl)itrate,  we  yet  read  that, — 
"In  the  formor  instance  [when  game  is  taken  in  inrlosures  by  a 
hunting  party],  the  game  Ls  divided  amonn-  those  who  had  been  en- 


PROPERTY.  541 

gaged  in  the  pursuit  of  it.  In  the  latter  [when  taken  in  private  traps] 
it  is  considered  as  private  property;  nevertheless,  any  unsuccessful 
hunter  passing  by,  may  take  a  deer  so  caught,  leaving  the  head,  skin, 
and  saddle,  for  the  owner." 

iu  cases,  still  luore  unlike,  but  similar  in  the  respect  that 
there  exists  an  obvious  connexion  between  labour  expended 
and  benefit  achieved,,  rude  peoples  re-illustrate  this  same  in- 
dividualization of  property.  Burckhardt  tells  us  of  the 
Bedouins  that  wells  "  are  exclusive  property,  either  of  a 
whole  tribe,  or  of  individuals  whose  ancestors  dug  the  wells." 
Taken  together  such  facts  make  it  indisputable  that  in 
early  stages,  private  aj)propriation,  carried  to  a  considerable 
extent,  is  not  carried  further  because  circumstances  render  ex- 
tension of  it  impracticable. 

§  538.  Recognition  of  this  truth  at  once  opens  the  way  to 
explanation  of  primitive  land-ownership ;  and  elncidates  the 
genesis  of  those  communal  and  family  tenures  which  have 
prevailed  so  widely. 

While  subsistence  on  wild  food  continues,  the  wandering- 
horde  inhabiting  a  given  area,  must  continue  to  make  joint 
use  of  the  area ;  both  because  no  claim  can  be  shown  by  any 
member  to  any  portion,  and  because  the  marking  out  of  small 
divisions,  if  sharing  were  agreed  upon,  would  be  impractica- 
ble. Where  pastoral  life  has  arisen,  ability  to  drive  herds 
hither  and  thither  within  the  occupied  region  is  necessary. 
In  the  absence  of  cultivation,  cattle  and  their  owners  could 
not  survive  were  each  owner  restricted  to  one  spot:  there  is 
nothing  feasible  but  united  possession  of  a  wide  tract.  And 
when  there  comes  a  transition  to  the  agricultural  stage,  either 
directly  from  the  hunting  stage  or  indirectly  through  the 
•pastoral  stage,  several  causes  conspire  to  prevent,  or  to  check, 
the  growth  of  private  land-ownership. 

There  is  first  the  traditional  usage.  Joint  ownership  con- 
tinues after  circumstances  no  longer  render  it  imperative, 
because  departure  from  the  sacred  example  of  forefathers  is 
resisted.     Sometimes  the  resistance  is  insuperable;  as  w^ith 


542  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

the  Rechabites  and  the  people  of  Petra,  who  by  their  vow 
"  were  not  allowed  to  possess  either  vineyards  or  corn- 
fields or  houses  "  but  were  bound  "  to  continue  the  nomadic 
life."  And  obviously,  where  the  transition  to  a  settled  state 
is  effected,  the  survival  of  habits  and  sentiments  established 
during  the  nomadic  state,  must  long  prevent  possession  of 
land  by  individuals.  Moreover,  apart  from  oppos- 

ing ideas  and  customs,  there  are  physical  difficulties  in  the 
way.  Even  did  any  member  of  a  pastoral  horde  which  had 
become  partially  settled,  establish  a  claim  to  exclusive  pos- 
session of  one  part  of  the  occupied  area,  little  advantage  could 
be  gained  before  there  existed  the  means  of  keeping  out  the 
animals  belonging  to  others.  Common  use  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  surface  must  long  continue  from  mere  inability 
to  set  up  effectual  divisions.  Only  small  portions  can  at 
first  be  fenced  off.  Yet  a  further  reason  why  land- 

owning by  individuals,  and  land-owning  by  families,  establish 
themselves  very  slowly,  is  that  at  first  each  particuhir  plot 
has  but  a  temporary  value.  The  soil  is  soon  exhausted ;  and 
in  the  absence  of  advanced  arts  of  culture  become  useless. 
Such  tribes  as  those  of  the  Indian  hills  show  us  that  primitive 
cultivators  uniformly  follow  the  practice  of  clearing  a  tract  of 
ground,  raising  from  it  two  or  three  crops,  and  then  abandon- 
ing it:  the  implication  being  that  whatever  private  claim  had 
arisen,  lapses,  and  the  surface,  again  becoming  wild,  reverts 
to  the  community.   . 

Thus  throughout  long  stages  of  incipient  civilization,  the 
impediments  in  the  way  of  private  land-ownership  are  great 
and  the  incentives  to  it  small.  Besides  the  fact  that  primitive 
men,  respecting  the  connexion  between  effort  expended  and 
benefit  gained,  and  therefore  respecting  the  right  of  property 
in  things  made  l)v  labour,  recognize  no  claim  thus  estab- 
lished by  an  indivirlual  to  a  portion  of  land;  and  besides  the 
fact  that  in  the  adhesion  to  inherited  usage  and  the  inability 
effectually  to  make  bounds,  tlicre  are  both  moral  and  physical 
obstacles    to    the    establishment    of    any    such    individual 


PROPERTY.  543 

monopoly;  tliere  is  the  fact  that  throughout  early  stages  of 
settled  life,  no  motive  to  maintain  permanent  private  posses- 
sion of  land  comes  into  play.  Manifestly,  therefore,  it  is  not 
from  conscious  assertion  of  any  theory,  or  in  pursuance  of 
any  deliberate  policy,  that  tribal  and  communal  proprietor- 
ship of  the  areas  occupied  originate;  but  simply  from  the 
necessities  of  the  case. 

Hence  the  prevalence  among  unrelated  peoples  of  this  pub- 
lic ownership  of  land,  here  and  there  partially  qualified  by 
temporary  jDrivate  ownership.  Some  hunting  tribes  of  i^ortli 
America  show  us  a  stage  in  which  even  the  communal  pos- 
session is  still  vague.  Concerning  the  Dakotas  Schoolcraft 
says — 

"Each  village  has  a  certain  district  of  country  they  hunt  in,  but  do 
not  object  to  families  of  other  villages  hunting  with  them.  Among 
the  Dacotas,  I  never  knew  an  instance  of  blood  being  shed  in  any  dis- 
putes or  difficulties  on  the  hunting  grounds."  . 
Similarly  of  the  Comanches,  he  remarks  that  ''  no  dispute 
e^'er  arises  between  tribes  with  regard  to  their  hunting 
grounds,  the  whole  being  held  in  common."  Of  the  semi- 
settled  and  more  advanced  Iroquois,  Morgan  tells  us  that — 
"No  individual  could  obtain  the  absolute  title  to  land,  as  that  was 
vested  by  the  laws  of  the  Iroquois  in  all  the  people ;  but  he  could 
reduce  unoccupied  lands  to  cultivation  to  any  extent  he  pleased;  and 
so  long  as  he  continued  to  use  them,  his  right  to  their  enjoyment  was 
protected  and  secured." 

Sundry  pastoral  peoples  of  South  Africa  show  us  the  sur- 
vival of  sueli  arrangements  under  different  conditions. 
"The  land  which  they  [the  Bechuanas]  inhabit  is  the  common  pro- 
perty of  the  whole  tribe,  as  a  pasture  for  their  herds." 
"Being  entirely  a  pastoral  people,  the  Damaras  have  no  notion  of 
permanent  habitations.  The  whole  country  is  considered  public  pro- 
perty. .  .  .  There  is  an  understanding  that  he  who  arrives  first  at  any 
given  locality,  is  the  master  of  it  as  long  as  he  chooses  to  remain  there." 

Kaflir  custom  "does  not  recognize  private  property  in  the  soil  be- 
yond that  of  actual  possession." 

"No  one  possesses  landed  property"  [among  the  Koosas];   "he 
sows  his  corn  wherever  he  can  find  a  convenient  spot." 
And  various  of  the  uncivilized,  who  are  mainly  or  wholly 


544  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

agricultural,  exhibit  but  slight  modifications  of  this  usage. 
Though  bv  the  Xew  ZeahuKlors  some  extra  claiui  of  the  chief 
is  recoguized,  yet  "  all  free  persons,  male  and  female,  consti- 
tuting the  nation,  were  proprietors  of  the  soil:  "  there  is  a 
qualified  proprietorship  of  land,  obtained  by  cultivation, 
which  does  not  destroj^  the  proprietorship  of  the  nation  or 
tribe.  In  Sumatra,  cultiA^ation  gives  temporary  ownership 
but  nothing  more.  We  read  that  the  ground  "  on  which  a  man 
plants  or  builds,  with  the  consent  of  his  neighbours,  becomes 
a  species  of  nominal  property  " ;  but  when  the  trees  which 
he  has  planted  disappear  in  the  course  of  nature,  "  the  land 
reverts  to  the  public."  From  a  distant  region  may  be  cited  an 
instance  where  the  usages,  though  dift'ercnt  in  form,  involve 
the  same  principle.  Among  the  modern  Indians  of  Mexico — 
"  Only  a  house-place  and  a  garden  are  hereditary;  the  fields  belong 
to  the  village,  and  are  cultivated  every  year  without  anything  being 
paid  for  rent.  A  portion  of  the  land  is  cultivated  in  common,  and 
the  proceeds  are  devoted  to  the  communal  expenses." 

This  joint  ownership  of  land,  qualified  by  individual  own- 
ership only  so  far  as  circumstances  and  habits  make  it  easy 
to  mark  off  individual  claims,  leads  to  different  modes  of 
using  the  products  of  the  soil,  according  as  convenience  dic- 
tates. Anderson  tc-ljs  us  that  in  "  Damara-land,  the  carcases 
of  all  animals — whether  wild  or  domesticated — are  consid- 
ered public  property."  Among  the  Todas — 
"Whilst  the  land  is  in  each  case  the  property  of  the  village  itself, 
.  .  .  the  cattle  which  graze  on  it  are  the  private  pr()])erty  of  individuals, 
being  males.  .  .  .  The  milk  of  the  entire  herd  is  lodged  in  the  palthchi, 
village  dairy,  from  which  each  person,  male  anil  female,  receives  for  his 
or  her  daily  consumption;  the  unconsumod  balance  being  divided,  as 
personal  and  saleable  property,  amongst  the  male  members  of  all  ages, 
in  proportion  to  the  number  of  cattle  which  each  possesses  in  the  herd." 
And  then  in  some  cases  joint  cultivation  leads  to  a  kindred 
system  of  division. 

"When  harvest  is  over,''  the  Congo  peojjle  "put  all  the  kidney-beans 
into  one  heap,  the  Indian  wheat  into  another,  and  so  of  other  grain : 
then  giving  the  Macolonte  [chief]  enough  for  his  maintenance,  and 
laying  aside  what  they  design  for  sowing,  the  rest  is  divided  at  so 


PROPERTY.  545 

much  to  every  cottage,  according  to  the  number  of  people  each  contains. 
Then  all  the  women  together  till  and  sow  the  land  for  a  new  harvest." 

In  Europe  an  allied  arrangement  is  exhibited  by  the  southern 
Slavs.  '"  The  fruits  of  agricultural  labour  are  consumed  in 
common,  or  divided  equally  among  the  married  couples;  but 
the  produce  of  each  man's  industrial  labour  belongs  to  him 
individually."  Further,  some  of  the  Swiss  allmends  show 
us  a  partial  survival  of  this  sj'stem;  for  besides  lands  which 
have  become  in  large  measure  private,  there  are  ''  communal 
vineyards  cultivated  in  common,"  and  "  there  are  also  corn- 
lands  cultivated  in  the  same  manner,"  and  "  the  fruit  of  their 
joint  labour  forms  the  basis  of  the  banquets,  at  which  all  the 
members  of  the  commune  take  part." 

Thus  we  see  that  communal  ownership  and  family  owner- 
ship at  first  arose  and  long  continued  because,  in  respect  of 
land,  no  other  could  well  be  established.  Records  of  the 
civilized  show  that  with  them  in  the  far  past,  as  at  present  with 
the  uncivilized,  private  possession,  beginning  with  movables, 
extends  itself  to  immovables  only  under  certain  conditions. 
We  have  evidence  of  this  in  the  fact  named  by  Mayer,  that 
"  the  Hebrew  language  has  no  expression  for  '  landed  pro- 
perty; '  "  and  again  in  the  fact  alleged  by  Mommsen  of  the 
Romans,  that  "  the  idea  of  property  was  primarily  associated 
not  with  immovable  estate,  but  with  '  estate  in  slaves  and 
cattle.'  "  And  if,  recalling  the  circumstances  of  pastoral  life, 
as  carried  on  alike  by  Semites  and  Ayrans,  we  remember  that, 
as  before  shown,  the  patriarchal  group  is  a  result  of  it;  we 
may  understand  how,  in  passing  into  the  settled  state,  there 
would  be  produced  such  forms  of  land-tenure  by  the  clan  and 
tlie  family  as,  with  minor  variations,  characterized  primitive 
European  societies.  It  becomes  comprehensible  why  among 
the  Romans  "  in  the  earliest  times,  the  arable  land  was  cul- 
tivated in  common,  jirobably  by  the  several  clans;  each  of 
these  tilled  its  own  land,  and  hereafter  distributed  the  pro- 
duce among  the  several  households  belonging  to  it."  AVe  are 
sliowii  that  there  natnrallv  aror^e  such  arrangements  as  those 


546  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

of  the  ancient  Teutonic  mark — a  territory  lield  "  by  a  primi- 
tive settlement  of  a  family  or  kindred,"  each  free  male  mem- 
ber of  which  had  "  a  right  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  woods, 
the  pastures,  the  meadow,  and  the  arable  land  of  the  mark;  " 
but  whose  right  was  ''  of  the  nature  of  usufruct  or  possession 
onl}',"  and  whose  allotted  private  division  became  each  sea- 
son common  grazing  land  after  the  crop  had  been  taken  oil, 
while  his  more  permanent  holding  was  limited  to  his  home- 
stead and  its  immediate  surroundings.  And  we  may  perceive 
how  the  community's  ownership  might  readily,  as  circum- 
stances and  sentiments  detennined,  result  here  in  an  annual 
use  of  apportioned  tracts,  here  in  a  periodic  re-partitioning, 
and  here  in  tenures  of  more  permanent  kinds, — still  subject 
to  the  supreme  right  of  the  whole  public. 

§  539.  Induction  and  deduction  uniting  to  show,  as  they 
do,  that  at  first  land  is  common  property,  there  presents  itself 
the  question — How  did  possession  of  it  become  individual- 
ized? There  can  be  little  doubt  as  to  the  general  nature  of 
the  answer.  Force,  in  one  form  or  other,  is  the  sole  cause 
adequate  to  make  the  members  of  a  society  yield  up  their 
joint  claim  to  the  area  they  inhabit.  Such  force  may  be  tliat 
of  an  external  aggressor  or  that  of  an  internal  aggressor;  but 
in  either  case  it  implies  militant  activity. 

The  first  evidence  of  this  which  meets  us  is  that  the  primi- 
tive system  of  land-ownership  has  lingered  longest  where 
circumstances  have  been  such  as  cither  to  exclude  war  or 
to  minimize  it.  Already  I  have  referred  to  a  still-extant 
Teutonic  mark  existing  in  Drenthe,  "  surrounded  on  all  sides 
by  marsh  and  bog,"  forming  "  a  kind  of  island  of  sand  and 
heath ;  "  and  this  example,  before  named  as  showing  the  sur- 
vival of  free  judicial  institutions  where  free  institutions  at 
large  survive,  simultaneously  shows  the  communal  land- 
ownership  which  continues  while  men  are  unsubordinated. 
After  this  typical  case  may  be  na*med  one  not  far  distant, 
and  somewhat  akin — that,  namely,  which  occurs  "  in  tlie 


PROPERTY.  547 

sandy  district  of  the  Cainpiue  and  beyond  the  Meuse,  in  the 
Ardennes  region,"  where  there  is  great  "  want  of  communi- 
cation: "  the  implied  difficulty  of  access  and  the  poverty  of 
surface  making  relatively  small  the  temptation  to  invade. 
So  that  while,  says  Laveleye,  "  except  in  the  Ardennes,  the 
lord  had  succeeded  in  usurping  the  eminent  domain,  without 
however  destroying  the  inhabitants'  rights  of  user,"  in  the 
Ardennes  itself,  the  primitive  communal  possession  survived. 
Other  cases  show  that  the  mountainous  character  of  a  locality, 
rendering  subjugation  by  external  or  internal  force  impracti- 
cable, furtliers  maintenance  of  this  primitive  institution,  as 
of  other  primitive  institutions.  In  Switzerland,  and  espe- 
cially in  its  Alpine  parts,  the  allmeuds  above  mentioned, 
which  are  of  the  same  essential  nature  as  the  Teutonic  marks, 
have  continued  down  to  the  present  day.  Sundry  kindred 
regions  present  kindred  facts.  Ownership  of  land  by  family- 
communities  is  still  to  be  found  "  in  the  hill-districts  of  Lom- 
bardy."  In  the  poverty-stricken  and  mountainous  portion  of 
Auvergne,  as  also  in  the  hilly  and  infertile  department  of 
Nievre,  there  are  still,  or  recently  have  been,  these  original 
joint-ownerships  of  land.  And  the  general  remark  concern- 
ing the  physical  circumstances  in  which  they  occur,  is  that 
"  it  is  to  the  wildest  and  most  remote  spots  that  we  must  go 
in  search  of  them  " — a  truth  again  illustrated  "  in  the  small 
islands  of  Hoedic  and  Honat,  situated  not  far  from  Belle 
Isle  "  on  the  French  coast,  and  also  in  our  own  islands  of 
Orkney  and  Shetland. 

Contrariwise,  we  find  that  directly  by  invasion,  and  indi- 
rectly by  the  chronic  resistance  to  invasion  which  generates 
those  class-inequalities  distinguishing  the  militant  type,  there 
is  produced  individualization  of  land-ownership,  in  one  or 
other  form.  All  the  world  over,  conquest  gives  a  possession 
that  is  unlimited  because  there  is  no  power  to  dispute  it. 
Along  with  other  spoils  of  war,  the  land  becomes  a  spoil;  and, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  conquering  society,  is  owned 
wholly  by  tlio  despotic  concpieror,  or,  partially  and  in 
1)4 


54S  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

dependent  ways,  bv  his  follDwcrs.  Oi"  \\\v  first  result  there 
are  many  instances.  "  The  kings  of  Abyssinia  are  above  all 
laws  .  .  .  the  land  and  persons  of  their  subjects  are  equally 
their  property."  "  In  Kongo  the  king  hath  the  sole  property 
of  goods  and  lands,  which  he  can  grant  away  at  pleasure." 
And  §  479  contains  sundry  other  examples  of  militant  socie- 
ties in  which  the  monarch,  otherwise  absolute,  is  absolute 
possessor  of  the  soil.  Of  the  second  result  instances  were 
giyen  in  §  458;  and  I  may  here  add  some  others.  Ancient 
Mexico  supplies  one. 

"Montezuma  possessed  in  most  of  the  villages  .  .  .  and  especially  in 
those  he  had  concpiered,  fiefs  which  he  distributed  among  those  called 
'  the  gallant  fellows  of  Mexico.'  These  were  men  wiio  had  distin- 
guished themselves  in  war." 

Under  a  more  primitiye  form  the  like  was  done  in  Iceland  by 
the  inyading  Norsemen. 

"When  a  chieftain  had  taken  possession  of  a  district,  he  allotted  to 
each  of  the  freemen  who  accompanied  him  a  certain  portion  of  laud, 
erected  a  temple  (hof),  and  became,  as  he  had  been  in  Norway,  the 
chief,  the  pontiff,  and  the  judge  of  the  herad." 

But,  as  was  shown  when  treating  of  political  differentia- 
tion, it  is  not  only  by  external  aggressors  that  the  joint  pos- 
session by  all  freemen  of  the  area  they  iidiabit  is  oyer-ridden. 
It  is  oyer-ridden,  also,  by  those  internal  aggressoi*s  whose 
power  becomes  great  in  proportion  as  the  militancy  of  the 
society  becomes  chronic.  AVith  the  ])ersonal  subordination 
generated  by  warfare,  there  goes  such  subordination  of  own- 
ership, that  lands  preyiously  held  absolutely  by  the  communi- 
ty, come  to  be  held  subject  to  the  claims  of  tlie  local  mag- 
nate; until,  in  course  of  time,  the  greater  ]iart  of  the  occupied 
area  falls  into  his  exclusive  possession,  and  oiily  n  small  part 
continues  to  be  common  property. 

To  complete  the  statement  it  must  be  added  that  occasion- 
ally, though  rarely,  the  passing  of  land  into  jirivate  hands 
takes  place  neitlior  by  rurciblc  ii]ii)r(i])riatioii,  nor  by  tlie  gra- 
dual encroachment  of  a  superior,  but  by  general  agreement. 
Where  there  exists  that  f«jrm  of  connnunal  ownership  under 


PROPERTY.  549 

which  joint  cultivatiou  is  replaced  by  separate  cultivation  of 
parts  portioned  out — where  there  results  from  this  a  system 
of  periodic  redistribution,  as  of  old  in  certain  Greek  states,  as 
among  the  ancient  Suevi,  and  as  even  down  to  our  own  times 
in  some  of  the  Swiss  allmends;  ownership  of  land  by  indi- 
viduals may  and  does  arise  from  cessation  of  the  redistribu- 
tion. Says  ]\I.  de  Laveleye  concerning  the  Swiss  allmends — 
"  in  the  work  of  M.  Kowalewsky,  we  see  how  the  communal 
lands  became  private  property  by  the  periodic  partitioning 
becoming  more  and  more  rare,  and  finally  falling  into 
desuetude."  When  not  otherwise  destroyed,  land-owning  by 
the  commune  tends  naturally  to  end  in  this  way.  For  besides 
the  inconveniences  attendant  on  re-localization  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  commune,  positive  losses  must  be  entailed  by  it 
on  many.  Out  of  the  whole  number,  the  less  skilful  and  less 
diligent  will  have  reduced  their  plots  to  lower  degrees  of 
fertility;  and  the  rest  will  have  a  motive  for  opposing  a  re- 
distribution which,  depriving  them  of  the  benefits  of  past 
labours,  makes  over  these  or  parts  of  them  to  the  relatively 
unworthy.  Evidently  this  motive  is  likely,  in  course  of  time, 
to  cause  refusal  to  re-divide;  and  permanent  private  posses- 
sion will  result. 

§  540.  An  important  factor  not  yet  noticed  has  cooperated 
JL  individualizing  property,  both  movable  and  fixed ;  namely, 
the  establishment  of  measures  of  quantity  and  value.  Only 
the  rudest  balancing  of  claims  can  be  made  before  there  comes 
into  use  appliances  for  estimating  amounts.  At  the  outset, 
ownership  exists  only  in  respect  of  things  actually  made  or 
obtained  by  the  labour  of  the  owner;  and  is  therefore  nar- 
rowly limited  in  range.  But  when  exchange  arises  and 
spreads,  first  under  the  indefinite  form  of  barter  and  then 
under  the  definite  form  of  sale  and  purchase  by  means  of  a 
circulating  medium,  it  becomes  easy  for  ownership  to  extend 
itself  to  other  things.  Observe  how  clearly  this  extension 
depends  on  tlie  iiii[)lied  progress  of  industrialism. 


650  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

It  was  pointed  out  in  §  ul'J  that  during  tlie  pastoral  stage, 
it  is  impracticable  to  assign  to  each  member  of  the  family- 
communitv,  or  to  each  of  its  dependents,  such  part  of  the  pro- 
duce or  other  property  as  is  proportionate  to  the  value  of  his 
labour.  Though  in  the  case  of  Jacob  and  Laban  the  bargain 
made  for  services  was  one  into  which  some  idea  of  equivalence 
entered,  yet  it  was  an  extremely  rude  idea ;  and  by  no  such 
bargains  could  numerous  transactions,  or  transactions  of 
smaller  kinds,  be  effected.  On  asking  what  must  hap])en 
when  the  patriarchal  group,  becoming  settled,  assumes  one  or 
other  enlarged  form,  we  see  that  reverence  for  traditional 
usages,  and  the  necessity  of  union  for  mutual  defence,  con- 
spire to  maintain  the  system  of  joint  production  and  joint 
consuiiij^tion :  iiulividiialization  of  property  is  still  hindered. 
Though  under  such  conditions  each  person  establishes  private 
ownership  in  respect  of  things  on  which  he  has  expended 
separate  labour,  or  things  received  in  exchange  for  such 
jiroducts  of  his  separate  labour;  yet  only  a  small  amount  of 
property  thus  distinguished  as  private,  can  be  acquired.  The 
greater  part  of  his  labour,  mixed  with  that  of  others,  brings 
returns  inseparable  from  the  returns  of  their  labours;  and 
the  united  returns  must  therefore  be  enjoyed  in  common. 
But  as  fast  as  it  becomes  safer  to  dispense  with  the  protection 
of  the  family-group;  and  as  fast  as  increasing  commercial  in- 
tercourse opens  careers  for  those  who  leave  their  groups;  and 
as  fast  as  the  use  of  money  and  measures  gives  definiteness  to 
exchanges;  there  come  opportunities  for  accumulating  indi- 
vidual possessions,  as  distinguished  from  joint  possessions. 
And  since  among  those  who  lal)our  together  and  live  together, 
there  will  inevitably  be  some  who  feel  restive  under  the 
imposed  restraints,  and  also  some  (usually  the  same)  who 
fool  dissatisfied  with  the  equal  sharing  among  those  whose 
labours  are  not  of  e(|unl  values;  it  is  inferable  that  these 
op})ortunities  will  be  seized:  private  ownershij)  will  spread 
at  the  expense  of  public  ownorshi]).  Some  illustrations 
may  be  given.     Speaking  of  the  family-communities  of  the 


PROPERTY.  551 

Soutliern  Slavs,  mostly  in  course  of  dissolution,  M.  de 
Laveleye  says — 

"The  family-group  was  far  more  capable  of  defending  itself  against 
the  severity  of  Turkish  rule  than  were  isolated  individuals.  Accord- 
ingly, it  is  in  this  part  of  the  southern  Slav  district  that  family  com- 
munities are  best  preserved,  and  still  form  the  basis  of  social  order." 
The  influence  of  commercial  activity  as  conducing  to  dis- 
integration, is  shown  by  the  fact  that  these. family-commu- 
nities ordinarily  hold  together  only  in  rural  districts. 
"In  the  neighbourhood  of  the  towns  the  more  varied  life  has  weak- 
ened the  ancient  family-sentiment.  Many  communities  have  been 
dissolved,  their  property  divided  and  sold,  and  their  members  have 
degenerated  into  mere  tenants  and  proletarians." 
And  then  the  effect  of  a  desire,  alike  for  personal  independ- 
ence and  for  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  benefits  consequent 
on  superiority,  is  recognized  in  the  remark  that  these  family- 
connnunities — 

"cannot  easily  withstand  the  conditions  of  a  society  in  which  men  are 
striving  to  improve  their  own  lot,  as  well  as  the  political  and  social 
organization  under  which  they  live.  .  .  .  Once  the  desire  of  self-aggran- 
disement awakened,  man  can  no  longer  support  the  yoke  oi  the  zadrnga. 
...  To  live  according  to  his  own  will,  to  work  for  himself  alone,  to 
drink  from  his  own  cup,  is  now  the  end  preeminently  sought." 
That  this  cause  of  disintegration  is  general,  is  implied  by 
passages  concerning  similar  communities  still  existing  in  the 
hill-districts  of  Lombardy — that  is,  away  from  the  centres  of 
mercantile  activity.  Growing  averse  to  the  control  of  the 
house-fathers,  the  members  of  these  communities  say — 
"  'Why  should  we  and  all  our  belongings  remain  in  subjection  to  a 
master  ?  It  were  far  the  best  for  each  to  work  and  think  for  himself.' 
As  the  profits  derived  from  any  handicraft  form  a  sort  of  private 
peculium,  the  associates  are  tempted  to  enlarge  this  at  the  expense  of 
the  common  revenue."  And  then  "the  craving  to  live  independently 
carries  him  away,  and  he  quits  the  community." 

All  which  evidence  shows  that  the  progress  of  industrialism 
is  the  general  cause  of  this  growing  individualization  of  pro- 
perty; for  such  progress  is  pre-su])poscd  alike  by  the  greater 
security  which  makes  it  safe  to  live  separately,  by  the  in- 


552  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

creased  opportunity  for  those  sales  which  further  the  accu- 
muhation  of  a  peculium,  and  by  the  use  of  measures  of  quan- 
tity and  value:  these  being  implied  primarily  by  such  sales, 
and  secondarily  by  the  sale  and  di^asion  of  all  that  has  been 
held  in  common. 

Spread  of  private  ownership,  which  thus  goes  along  with 
decay  of  the  system  of  status  and  growth  of  the  system 
of  contract,  naturally  passes  on  from  movable  property  to 
fixed  property.  For  when  the  multiplication  of  trading 
transactions  has  made  it  possible  for  each  member  of  a 
family-  community  to  accumulate  a  peculium  ;  and  when  the 
strengthening  desire  for  individual  domestic  life  has  im- 
pelled the  majority  of  the  community  to  sell  the  land  which 
they  have  jointly  inherited;  the  several  portions  of  it, 
whether  sold  to  separate  members  of  the  body  or  to  strangers, 
are  thus  reduced  by  definite  agreement  to  the  form  of  indi- 
vidual properties;  and  private  ownei^ship  of  land  thereby 
acquires  a  character  apparently  like  that  of  other  private 
ownership.  In  other  ways,  too,  this  result  is  furthered 

by  developing  industrialism.  If,  omitting  as  not  relevant 
the  cases  in  which  the  absolute  ruler  allows  no  rights  of  pro- 
perty, landed  or  other,  to  his  subjects,  we  pass  to  the  cases  in 
which  a  conqueror  recognizes  a  partial  ownership  of  land  by 
those  to  whom  he  has  parcelled  it  out  on  condition  of  render- 
ing services  and  paying  dues,  we  see  that  the  private  land- 
ownership  established  by  militancy  is  an  incomplete  one.  It 
has  various  incompletenesses.  The  ownership  by  the  suzerain 
is  qualified  by  the  rights  he  has  made  over  to  his  vassals;  the 
rights  of  the  vassals  are  qualified  l)v  the  conditions  of  their 
tenure;  and  they  are  further  qualified  by  the  claims  of  serfs 
and  other  dependents,  who,  while  bound  to  specified  services, 
have  specified  shares  of  produce.  But  with  the  decline  of 
militancy  and  concomitant  disappearance  of  vassalage,  the 
obligations  of  the  tenure  diminish  and  finally  almost  lapse 
out  of  recognition;  while,  simultanoonsly,  abolition  of  serf- 
dom destroys  or  obscures  the  other  claims  which  (piulified 


PROPERTY.  553 

private  land-ownership.*  As  both  changes  are  accompani- 
ments of  a  developing  industrialism,  it  follows  that  in  these 
ways  also,  the  individualization  of  property  in  land  is  fur- 
thered by  it. 

At  first  sight  it  seems  fairly  inferable  that  the  absolute 
ownership  of  land  by  private  persons,  must  be  the  ultimate 
state  which  industrialism  brings  about.  But  though  indus- 
trialism has  thus  far  tended  to  individualize  possession  of 
land,  while  individualizing  all  other  possession,  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  the  final  stage  is  at  present  reached.  Own- 
ership established  by  force  does  not  stand  on  the  same  footing 
as  ownership  established  by  contract ;  and  though  multiplied 
sales  and  purchases,  treating  the  two  ownerships  in  the  same 
way,  have  tacitly  assimilated  them,  the  assimilation  may 
eventually  be  denied.  The  analogy  furnished  by  assumed 
rights  of  possession  over  human  beings,  helps  us  to  recognize 
this  possibility,  Eor  while  prisoners  of  war,  taken  by  force 
and  held  as  property  in  a  vague  way  (being  at  first  much  on 
a  footing  with  other  members  of  a  household),  were  reduced 
more  definitely  to  the  form  of  property  when  the  buying  and 
selling  of  slaves  became  general;  and  while  it  might,  cen- 
turies ago,  have  been  thence  inferred  that  the  ownership 
of  man  by  man  was  an  ownership  in  course  of  being  per- 
manently established;  yet  we  see  that  a  later  stage  of  civiliza- 
tion, reversing  this  process,  has  destroyed  ownership  of  man 
by  man.  Similarly,  at  a  stage  still  more  advanced  it  may 
be  that  private  ownership  of  land  will  disappear.  As  that 
primitive  freedom  of  the  individual  which  existed  before 
Avar  established  coercive  institutions  and  personal  slavery, 
comes  to  be  re-established  as  militancy  declines;  so  it  seems 
possible  that  the  primitive  ownership  of  land  by  the  com- 
munity, which,  with  the  development  of  coercive  institutions, 
lapsed  in  large  measure  or  wholly  into  private  OAATiership,  will 

*  In  our  own  case  the  definite  endinfj  of  these  tenures  took  place  in 
1G60:  when,  for  feudal  oblifrations  (a  burden  on  landowners)  was  substi- 
tuted a  beer-excise  (a  burden  on  the  community). 


554  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

be  revived  as  industrialism  further  develops.  The  regime  of 
contract,  at  present  so  far  extended  that  the  right  of  property 
in  niovables  is  recognized  only  as  having  arisen  by  exchange 
of  services  or  products  under  agreements,  or  by  gift  from 
those  who  had  acquired  it  under  such  agreements,  may  be 
further  extended  so  far  that  the  products  of  the  soil  will  be 
recognized  as  property  only  by  virtue  of  agreements  between 
individuals  as  tenants  and  the  community  as  landowner. 
Even  now,  among  ourselves,  private  ownership  of  land  is  not 
absolute.  In  legal  theory  landownei's  are  directly  or  indi- 
rectly tenants  of  the  Crown  (which  in  our  day  is  equivalent  to 
the  State,  or,  in  other  wards,  the  Community) ;  and  the  Com- 
munity from  time  to  time  resumes  possession  after  making 
due  compensation.  Perhaps  the  right  of  the  Community  to 
the  land,  thus  tacitly  asserted,  will  in  time  to  come  be  overtly 
asserted;  and  acted  upon  after  making  full  allowance  for  the 
accumulated  value  artificially  given. 

§  541.  The  rise  and  development  of  arrangements  which 
fix  and  regulate  private  possession,  thus  admit  of  tolerably 
clear  delineation. 

The  desire  to  appropriate,  and  to  keep  that  which  has  been 
appropriated,  lies  deep,  not  in  human  nature  only,  but  in 
animal  nature:  being,  indeed,  a  condition  to  survival.  The 
consciousness  that  conflict,  and  consequent  injury,  may  pro- 
bably result  from  the  endeavour  to  take  that  which  is  held  by 
another,  ever  tends  to  establish  and  strengthen  the  custom 
of  leaving  each  in  possession  of  whatever  he  has  obtained  by 
labour;  and  this  custom  takes  among  primitive  men  the 
shape  of  an  overtly-admitted  eliiiiu. 

Tliis  claim  to  ])rivate  ownersliij),  fully  recognized  in  respect 
of  movables  made  by  the  possessor,  and  fully  or  partially 
recrigni/ed  in  respect  of  game  killed  nii  tlie  territory  over 
which  members  of  the  conununity  wander,  is  not  recognized 
in  respect  of  this  territory  itself,  or  tracts  of  it.  Property  is 
individualized  as  far  as  circumstances  allow  individual  claims 


PROPERTY.  555 

to  be  marked  off  with  some  definiteness;  but  it  is  not  indi- 
vidualized in  respect  of  laud,  because,  under  the  conditions, 
no  individual  claims  can  be  shown,  or  could  be  effectually 
marked  off  were  they  shown. 

With  the  passage  from  a  nomadic  to  a  settled  state,  owner- 
ship of  land  by  the  community  becomes  qualified  by  indi- 
vidual ownership;  but  only  to  the  extent  that  those  who 
clear  and  cultivate  portions  of  the  surface  have  undisturbed 
enjoyment  of  its  produce.  Habitually  the  public  claim  sur- 
vives; and  either  when, -after  a  few  crops,  the  cleared  tract 
is  abandoned,  or  when,  after  transmission  to  descendants,  it 
has  ceased  to  be  used  by  them,  it  reverts  to  the  community. 
And  this  system  of  temporary  ownership,  congruous  with  the 
sentiments  and  usages  inherited  from  ancestral  nomads,  is 
associated  also  with  an  undeveloped  agriculture:  land  be- 
coming exhausted  after  a  few  years. 

Where  the  patriarchal  form  of  organization  has  been  car- 
ried from  the  pastoral  state  into  the  settled  state,  and,  sancti- 
fied by  tradition,  is  also  maintained  for  purposes  of  mutual 
protection,  possession  of  land  partly  by  the  clan  and  partly 
by  the  family,  long  continues;  at  the  same  time  that  there 
is  separate  possession  of  things  produced  by  separate  labour. 
And  while  in  some  cases  the  communal  land-ownership,  or 
family  land-ownership,  survives,  it  in  other  cases  yields  in 
various  modes  and  degrees  to  qualified  forms  of  private  own- 
ership, mostly  temporary,  and  subject  to  supreme  ownership 
by  the  public. 

But  war,  both  by  producing  class-differentiations  within 
each  society,  and  by  effecting  the  subjugation  of  one  society 
by  another,  undermines  or  destroys  communal  proprietorship 
of  land;  and  partly  or  wholly  substitutes  for  it,  either  the 
unqualified  proprietorship  of  an  absolute  conqueror,  or  pro- 
prietorship by  a  conqueror  qualified  by  the  claims  of  vassals 
holding  it  under  certain  conditions,  while  their  claims  are 
in  turn  qualified  by  those  of  dependents  attached  to  the  soil. 
That  is  to  say,  the  system  of  status  which  militancy  develops. 


556  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

involves  a  graduated  ownership  of  land  fls  it  does  a  graduated 
ownership  of  persons. 

Complete  individualization  of  ownership  is  an  accompani- 
ment of  industrial  progress.  From  the  beginning,  things 
identified  as  products  of  a  man's  own  labour  are  recognized 
as  his;  and  throughout  the  course  of  civilization,  communal 
possession  and  joint  household  living,  have  not  excluded  the 
recognition  of  a  peculium  obtained  by  individual  eifort.  Ac- 
cumulation of  movables  privately  possessed,  arising  in  this 
way,  increases  as  militancy  is  restrained  by  growing  indus- 
trialism ;  because  this  pre-supposes  greater  facility  for  dispos- 
ing of  industrial  products;  because  there  come  along  with 
it  measures  of  quantity  and  value,  furthering  exchange;  and 
because  the  more  pacific  relations  implied  render  it  safer  for 
men  to  detach  themselves  from  the  grou])s  in  which  they 
previously  kei^t  together  for  mutual  protection.  The  indi- 
vidualization of  ownership,  extended  and  made  more  definite 
by  trading  transactions  under  contract,  eventually  affects 
the  ownership  of  land.  Bought  and  sold  by  measure  and  for 
money,  land  is  assimilated  in  this  respect  to  the  personal 
property  produced  by  labour;  and  thus  becomes,  in  the  gen- 
eral apprehension,  confounded  with  it.  But  there  is  reason 
to  suspect  that  while  private  possession  of  things  produced 
by  labour,  will  grow  even  more  definite  and  sacred  than  at 
present;  the  inhabited  area,  which  cannot  be  produced  by 
labour,  will  eventually  be  distinguished  as  something  which 
may  not  be  privately  possessed.  As  the  individual,  primi- 
tively owner  of  himself,  partially  or  Avholly  loses  ownership 
of  himself  during  the  militant  regime,  but  gradually  re- 
sumes it  as  the  industrial  regime  develops;  so,  possibly,  the 
communal  proprietorship  of  land,  partially  or  wholly  merged 
in  the  ownershi]i  of  dominant  men  during  evolution  of  the 
militant  t^^e,  will  be  resumed  as  the  industrial  type  becomes 
fullv  evolved. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


REVE^'CE, 


§  542.  Broadly  dividing  the  products  of  men's  labours  into 
the  part  which  remains  with  them  for  private  purposes  and 
the  part  taken  from  them  for  public  purposes;  and  recog- 
nizing the  truism  that  the  revenue  constituted  by  this  last 
part  must  increase  with  the  development  of  the  public  organi- 
zation supported  bv  it;  we  may  be  prepared  for  the  fact  that 
in  early  stages  of  social  evolution,  nothing  answering  to  rev- 
enue exists. 

The  political  head  being  at  first  distinguished  from  other 
members  of  the  community  merely  by  some  personal  supe- 
riority,, his  power,  often  recognized  only  during  war,  is,  if 
recognized  at  other  times,  so  slight  as  to  bring  him  no  mate- 
rial advantage.  Habitually  in  rude  tribes  he  pro\ddes  for 
himself  as  a  private  man.  Sometimes,  indeed,  instead  of 
gaining  by  his  distinction  he  loses  by  it.  Among  the  Dako- 
tas  "  the  civil-chiefs  and  war-chiefs  are  distinguished  from 
the  rest  by  their  poverty.  They  generally  are  poorer  clad 
than  any  of  the  rest."  A  statement  concerning  the  Abipones 
shows  us  why  this  occasionally  happens. 

"The  cacique  has  nothing,  either  in  his  arms  or  his  clothes,  to  distin- 
guish him  from  a  common  man,  except  the  peculiar  oldness  and  shabbi- 
ness  of  them;  for  if  he  appears  in  the  streets  with  new  and  handsome 
apparel,  .  .  .  the  first  person  he  meets  will  boldly  cry,  Give  me  that 
dress  .  .  .  and  unless  he  immediately  parts  with  it,  he  becomes  the 
scoff  and  the  scorn  of  all,  and  hears  himself  called  covetous." 
Among  the  Patagonians  the  burdens  entailed  by  relieving 
and  protecting  inferiors,  lead- to  abdication,      ^[nny  "  born 

557 


558  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Caciques  refuse  to  have  any  vassals ;  as*  they  cost  them  dear, 
and  yield  but  little  profit." 

Generally,  however,  and  always  where  war  increases  his 
predominance,  the  leading  warrior  begins  to  be  distinguished 
by  wealth  accniing  to  him  in  sundry  ways.  The  superiority 
Avliich  gains  him  supremacy,  implying  as  it  mostly  docs 
greater  skill  and  energy,  conduces  to  accumulation:  not  un- 
commonly, as  we  have  seen,  (§  4:72)  the  primitive  chief  is 
also  the  rich  man.  And  this  possession  of  niuch  private 
property  grows  into  a  conspicuous  attribute  when,  in  the 
settled  state,  land  held  by  the  community  begins  to  be  appro- 
priated by  its  more  powerful  members.  Rulers  habitually 
become  large  landowners.  In  ancient  3'^gypt  there  were 
royal  lands.  Of  the  primitive  Greek  king  we  read  that  "  an 
anii)le  domain  is  assigned  to  him  [  ?  taken  by  him]  as  an  ap- 
purtenance of  his  lofty  position."  And  among  other  peoples 
in  later  times,  we  find  the  monarch  owning  great  estates. 
The  income  hence  derived,  continues  to  the  last  to  represent 
that  revenue  which  the  jwlitical  head  originally  had,  when  he 
began  to  be  marked  off  from  the  rest  only  by  some  personal 
merit. 

Such  larger  amount  of  private  means  as  thus  usually  dis- 
tinguishes the  head  man  at  the  outset,  augments  as  successful 
war,  increasing  his  predominance,  brings  him  an  increasing 
portion  of  the  spoils  of  contjuered  peoples.  In  early  stages  it 
is  the  custom  for  each  warrior  to  keep  whatever  he  personally 
takes  in  battle;  while  that  which  is  taken  jointly  is  in  some 
cases  equally  divided.  But  of  course  the  chief  is  apt  to  get 
an  extra  share;  either  by  actual  capture,  or  by  the  walling 
award  of  his  comrades,  or,  it  may  be,  by  forcible  a])i)ropria- 
tion.  And  as  his  power  grows,  this  forcible  apjn'opriation  is 
yielded  to,  sometimes  tacitly,  sometimes  under  protest;  as  we 
are  shown  by  the  central  incident  in  the  Iliad.  Through 
later  stages  his  portion  of  plunder,  reserved  before  division  of 
the  remainder  among  followers,  continues  to  be  a  source  of 
revenue.  And  where  he  becomes  absolute,  the  property  taken 


REVENUE.  559 

from  the  vanquished,  lessened  only  by  such  portions  as  he 
gives  in  reward  for  services,  augments  his  means  of  support- 
ing his  dejDcndents  and  maintaining  his  supremacy. 

To  these  sources  of  income  which  may  be  classed  as  inci- 
dental, is  simultaneously  added  a  source  which  is  constant. 
When  predominance  of  the  chief  has  become  so  decided  that 
he  is  feared,  he  begins  to  receive  propitiatory  presents;  at 
first  occasionally  and  afterwards  periodically.  Already  in 
§§  309-71,  when  treating  of  presents  under  their  ceremo- 
nial aspects,  I  have  given  illustrations ;  and  many  more  may 
be  added.  Describing  the  king  among  the  Homeric  Greeks, 
Grote  writes — "'  Moreover  he  receives  frequent  presents,  to 
avert  his  enmity,  to  conciliate  his  favour,  or  to  buy  off  his 
exactions."  So,  too,  of  the  primitive  Germans,  we  are  told 
by  Tacitus  that  ''  it  is  the  custom  of  the  states  to  bestow  by 
voluntary  and  individual  contribution  on  the  chiefs,  a  pres- 
ent of  cattle  or  of  grain,  which,  while  accepted  as  a  compli- 
ment, supplies  their  wants."  And  gifts  to  the  ruler  volun- 
tarily made  to  obtain  good  will,  or  prevent  ill  will,  continue 
to  be  a  source  of  revenue  until  quite  late  stages.  Among 
ourselves  "  during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  custom  of 
presenting  jSTew  Year's  gifts  to  the  sovereign  was  carried 
to  an  extravagant  height ;  "  and  even  "  in  the  reign  of 
James  I.  the  money  gifts  seem  to  have  been  continued  for 
some  time." 

Along  with  offerings  of  money  and  goods  there  go  offerings 
of  labour.  ISs^ot  unfrequently  in  primitive  communities,  it  is 
the  custom  for  all  to  join  in  building  a  new  house  or  clearing  a 
plot  of  ground  for  one  of  their  number :  such  benefits  being 
reciprocated.  Of  course  the  growing  predominance  of  a 
political  head,  results  in  a  more  extensive  yielding  of  gratui- 
tous labour  for  his  benefit,  in  these  and  other  ways.  The  same 
motives  which  prompt  gifts  to  the  ruler  prompt  offers  of  lielp 
to  him  more  than  to  other  persons;  and  thus  the  custom  of 
working  for  him  grows  into  a  usage.  We  read  of  the  village 
chief  among  tlic  Guaranis  that  ''  hi^  subjects  cultivated  for 


560  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

him  his  plantation,  and  he  enjoyed  certain  privileges  on  divi- 
sion of  the  spoils  of  the  chase.  Otherwise  he  possessed  no 
marks  of  distinction."  And  the  like  practice  was  followed 
by  some  historic  races  during  early  stages.  In  ancient  Rome 
it  was  "  the  privilege  of  the  king  to  have  his  lields  tilled  by 
taskwork  of  the  burgesses." 

§  543.  Growth  of  the  regular  and  definite  out  of  the  irre- 
gular and  indefinite,  variuusly  exeniplitied  in  the  foregoing- 
chapters,  is  here  again  exemplified  very  clearly.  For,  as  al- 
ready said,  it  is  from  propitiatory  })resents  and  services,  at 
first  spontaneous  and  incidental,  that  there  eventually  come 
taxes  specified  in  their  amounts  and  times  of  payment. 

It  needs  but  to  observe  how  such  a  custom  as  that  of  mak- 
ing wedding-presents  has  acquired  a  partially  coercive  charac- 
ter, to  understand  how,  when  once  there  begins  the  practice 
of  seeking  the  good  will  of  the  headman  by  a  gift,  this  prac- 
tice is  apt  to  be  established.  One  having  gained  by  it, 
another  follows  his  example.  The  more  generally  the  ex- 
ample is  followed  the  greater  becomes  the  disadvantage  to 
those  who  do  not  follow  it.  Until  at  length  all  give  because 
none  dare  stand  conspicuous  as  exceptions.  Of  course  if 
some  repeat  the  presents  upon  such  occasions  as  first  prompted 
them,  others  have  to  do  the  like;  and  at  length  Ihe  periodic 
obligation  becomes  so  perom])torv,  that  the  gift  is  demanded 
when  it  is  not  offered.  In  Loango,  where  presents  are  ex- 
pected from  all  free  subjects,  "  if  tlie  king  thinks  they  do  not 
give  enough,  he  sends  slaves  to  their  places  to  take  what  they 
have."  Among  the  Tongans,  who  from  time  to  time  give 
their  king  or  chief  "  yams,  mats,  gnatoo,  dried  fish,  live  birds, 
itc,"  the  (juantity  is  determined  ''  generally  by  the  will  of 
each  individual,  who  will  always  take  care  to  send  as  much  as 
he  can  well  afford,  lest  the  suj)erior  chief  should  be  offended 
with  him,  and  deprive  him  of  all  that  he  has."  At  the 
present  time  in  Cashmere,  at  tlie  spring  festival,  "  it  is  the 
custom  .  .  .  for  the  Maharajah's  servants  to  bring  him  a 


REVENUE.  561 

nazar,  a  present.  .  .  .  This  lias  now  become  so  regulated 
that  every  one  is  on  these  days  [festivals]  obliged  to  give 
from  a  10th  to  a  12th  of  his  monthly  pa}\  .  .  .  The  name  of 
each  is  read  from  a  list,  and  the  amount  of  his  nazar  is  marked 
down:  those  that  are  absent  will  have  the  sum  deducted 
from  their  pay."  Traces  of  a  like  transition  are  seen  in  the 
fact  that  in  ancient  times  crowns  of  gold,  beginning  as  gifts 
made  by  dependent  states  to  Eastern  rulers,  and  by  Roman 
provinces  to  generals  or  pro-consuls,  became  sums  of  money 
demanded  as  of  right;  and  again  in  the  fact  that  in  our 
own  early  history,  we  read  of  "  exactions  called  benevo- 
lences." 

Similarly  with  the  labour  which,  at  first  voluntarily  given 
to  the  chief,  conies,  as  his  power  grows,  to  be  compulsory. 
Here  are  some  illustrations  showing  stages  in  the  transition. 
A  Kafir  chief  "  summons  the  people  to  cultivate  his  gardens,  reap  his 
crops,  and  make  his  fences ;  but  in  this,  as  in  other  respects,  he  has  to 
consult  the  popular  will,  and  hence  the  manual  labour  required  by 
the  chiefs  has  always  been  of  very  limited  duration." 

In  the  Sandwich  Islands,  "when  a  chief  wants  a  house,  he  requires 
the  labour  of  all  who  hold  lands  under  him.  .  .  .  Each  division  of  the 
peojjle  has  a  part  of  the  house  allotted  by  the  chief  in  proportion  to 
its  number." 

In  ancient  Mexico  "the  personal  and  common  service  which  fur- 
nished the  water  and  wood  required  every  day  in  the  houses  of  the 
chiefs,  was  distributed  from  day  to  day  among  the  villages  and  quar- 
ters." 

It  was  the  same  in  Yucatan:  "the  whole  community  did  the  sow- 
ing for  the  lord,  looked  after  the  seed,  and  harvested  what  was  re- 
quired for  him  and  his  house." 

So  in  the  adjacent  regions  of  Guatemala  and  San  Salvador, 
"  the  tribute  was  paid  by  means  of  the  cultivation  of  estates." 
And  in  Madagascar  ''  the  whole  population  is  liable  to  be  em- 
ployed on  government  work,  without  remuneration,  and  for 
any  length  of  time." 

Occurring  among  peoples  unallicd  in  blood  and  unlike  in 
their  stages  of  civilization,  these  facts  show  the  natural  grow- 
ing up  of  a  forced  labour  system  siudi  as  that  wliich  ex- 
isted during  feudal  times  throughout  Europe,  when  labour 


562  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

was  exacted  from  dependeuts  by  local  rulei's,  and  became 
also  a  form  of  tribute  to  the  central  ruler;  as  instance  the 
specified  number  of  day's  work  which,  before  the  Revolu- 
tion, had  to  be  given  by  French  peasants  to  the  State  under 
the  name  of  covcee. 

After  presents  freely  given  have  passed  into  presents  ex- 
pected and  finally  demanded,  and  volunteered  help  has  passed 
into  exacted  service,  the  way  is  open  for  a  further  step. 
Change  from  the  voluntary  to  the  compulsory,  accompanied 
as  it  necessarily  is  by  specification  of  the  amounts  of  com- 
modities and  work  required,  is  apt  to  be  followed  eventually 
by  substitution  of  money  payments.  During  stages  in  which 
there  has  not  arisen  a  circulating  medium,  the  ruler,  local  or 
general,  is  paid  his  revenue  in  kind.  In  Fiji  a  chief's  house 
is  supplied  with  daily  food  by  his  dependents;  and  tribute 
is  paid  by  the  chiefs  to  the  king  "  in  yams,  taro,  pigs,  fowls, 
native  cloth,  &c."  In  Tahiti,  where  besides  supplies  derived 
from  "  the  hereditary  districts  of  the  reigning  family,"  there 
were  "  requisitions  made  upon  the  people;  "  the  food  was 
generally  brought  cooked.  In  early  European  societies,  too, 
the  expected  donations  to  the  ruler  continued  to  be  made 
partly  in  goods,  animals,  clothes,  and  valuables  of  all  kinds, 
long  after  money  was  in  use.  But  the  convenience  both  of 
giver  and  receiver  prompts  commutation,  when  the  values 
of  the  presents  looked  for  have  become  settled.  And  from 
kindred  causes  there  also  comes,  as  we  have  seen  in  a  previous 
chapter,  commutation  of  military  services  and  conuuntation 
of  labour  services.  No  matter  what  its  nature,  that  which 
was  at  first  spontaneously  offered,  eventually  becomes  a  defi- 
nite sum  taken,  if  need  be,  by  force — a  tax. 

§  544.  At  the  same  time  his  growing  power  ejiablea  tlie 
political  head  to  enforce  demands  of  numy  other  kinds.  Fn- 
ropean  histories  furnish  ample  proofs. 

Besides  more  settled  sources  of  revenno,  tlicrc  had.  in  flu; 
early  feudal  period,  been  established  such  others  as  are  tyi)i- 


REVENUE.  663 

cally  illustrated  by  a  statement  concerning  the  Dukes  of  Xor- 
mandy  in  the  12th  century.  They  profited  by  escheats 
(lands  reverting  to  the  monarch  in  default  of  posterity  of  the 
first  baron);  by  guardianships  and  reliefs;  by  seizure  of  the 
property  of  deceased  prelates,  usurers,  excommunicated  per- 
sons, suicides,  and  certain  criminals;  and  by  treasure-trove. 
They  were  paid  for  conceded  privileges;  and  for  confirma- 
tions of  previous  concessions.  They  received  bribes  when  de- 
sired to  do  justice;  and  were  paid  fines  by  those  who  wished 
to  be  Qiaintained  in  possession  of  property,  or  to  get  liberty  to 
exercise  certain  rights.  In  England,  under  the  i^onnan 
kings,  there  were  such  other  sources  of  revenue  as  composi- 
tions paid  by  heirs  before  taking  possession;  sales  of  w^ard- 
ships;  sales  *o  male  heirs  of  rights  to  choose  their  wives; 
sales  of  charters  to  towns,  and  subsequent  re-sales  of  such 
charters;  sales  of  permissions  to  trade;  and  there  was  also 
what  was  called  "■  moneyage  " — a  shilling  paid  every  three 
years  by  each  hearth  to  induce  the  king  not  to  debase  the 
coinage.  Advantage  was  taken  of  every  favourable  opportu- 
nity for  making  and  enforcing  a  demand ;  as  we  see  in  such 
facts  as  that  it  was  customary  to  mulct  a  discharged  ofiicial, 
and  that  Richard  I.  •'  compelled  his  father's  servants  to  re- 
purchase their  offices." 

Showing  us,  as  such  illustrations  do,  that  these  arbitrary 
seizures  and  exactions  are  numerous  and  heavy  in  proportion 
as  the  power  of  the  ruler  is  little  restrained,  the  implication  is 
that  they  reach  their  extreme  where  the  social  organization  is 
typicall}'  militant.  Evidence  that  this  is  so,  was  given  in 
§  443 ;  and  in  the  next  chapter,  under  another  head,  we  shall 
meet  with  more  of  it. 

§  545.  AVliili>  in  tlie  ways  named  in  the  foregoing  sections, 
there  arise  direct  taxes,  there  simultaneously  arise,  and  in- 
sensibly diverge,  the  taxes  eventually  distinguished  as  indi- 
rect. These  begin  as  demands  made  on  those  who  have  got 
considerable  quantities  of  commodities  exposed  in  transit. 


5G4:  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

or  ou  sale;  and  of  wliicli  j)arts,  originally  offered  as  presents, 
are  subsequently  seized  as  dues. 

Under  other  heads  I  have  referred  to  tlie  familiar  fact  that 
travellers  among-  rude  peoples  make  proi)itiatory  gifts;  and 
by  frequent  recurrence  the  reception  of  these  generates  a 
claim.  Narratives  of  recent  African  explorers  confirm  the 
statements  of  Livingstone,  who  describes  the  Portuguese 
traders  among  the  Quanga  people  as  giving  largely,  because 
"  if  they  did  not  secure  the  friendship  of  these  petty  chiefs, 
many  slaves  might  be  stolen  with  their  loads  while  passing 
through  the  forests;  "  and  who  says  of  a  Balonda  chief  that 
''  he  seemed  to  regard  these  presents  as  his  proper  dues,  and 
as  a  cargo  of  goods  had  come  by  Senhor  Pascoal,  he  entered 
the  house  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  his  share."  Various 
cases  show  that  instead  of  attem])ting  to  take  all  at  the  risk  of 
a  fight,  the  head  man  enters  into  a  conij)romise  under  which 
part  is  given  without  a  fight;  as  instance  the  habitual  ar- 
rangement with  Bedouin  tribes,  which  compound  for  robbery 
of  travellers  by  amounts  agreed  upon;  or  as  instance  the 
mountain  Bhils  of  India,  whose  chiefs  have  "  seldom  much 
revenue  except  plunder,"  who  have  oflficers  "  to  obtain  infor- 
mation of  unprotected  villagers  and  travellers,"  and  who  claim 
"  a  duty  on  goods  passing  their  hills:  "  apparently  a  composi- 
tion accepted  when  those  who  carry  the  goods  are  too  strong 
to  be  rol)bed  without  danger.  Where  the  ])rot(H*tion  of  indi- 
vidmds  dejiends  mainly  on  family-organizations  and  clan-or- 
ganizations, the  subject  as  well  as  the  stranger,  undefended 
when  away  from  his  home,  similarly  becomes  liable  to  this 
(|ii:dificd  black  mail.  Now  to  the  local  ruler,  now  to  the  cen- 
tnil  iiiler,  according  to  their  respective  powers,  he  yields  u]) 
part  of  his  goods,  that  possession  of  the  rest  may  be  guaranteivl 
him,  and  his  claims  on  buyers  enforced.  This  state  of  things 
was  illustrated  in  ancient  Mexico,  where — 

"  Of  all  the  goods  which  were  brought  into  the  market,  a  certain  portion 
was  paid  in  tribute  to  the  king,  who  was  on  his  part  obliged  to  do  jus- 
tice to  the  merchants,  and  to  protect  their  proj)crty  and  their  persons." 


REVENUE.  565 

"We  trace  the  like  in  the  records  of  early  European  peoples. 
Part  of  the  revenue  of  the  primitive  Greek  king,  consisted  of 
"  the  presents  paid  for  licences  to  trade  " — presents  which 
in  all  probability  were  at  first  portions  of  the  commodities 
to  be  sold.  At  a  later  period  in  Greece  there  obtained  a  prac- 
tice that  had  doubtless  descended  from  this.  "  To  these 
men  [magistrates  of  markets]  a  certain  toll  or  tribute  was 
paid  by  all  those  who  brought  anything  to  sell  in  the  market." 
In  western  Europe  indirect  taxation  had  a  kindred  origin. 
The  trader,  at  the  mercy  of  the  ruler  whose  territory  he  en- 
tered, had  to  surrender  part  of  his  mechandise  in  considera- 
tion of  being  allowed  to  pass.  As  feudal  lords,  swooping 
down  from  their  castles  on  merchants  passing  along  neigh- 
bouring road»  or  navigable  rivers,  took  by  force  portions  of 
what  they  had,  when  they  did  not  take  all ;  so  their  suzerains 
laid  hands  on  what  they  pleased  of  cargoes  entering  their 
ports  or  passing  their  frontiers:  their  shares  gradually  be- 
coming defined  by  precedent.  In  England,  though  there  is 
no  clear  proof  that  the  two  tuns  which  the  king  took  from 
wine-laden  ships  (wine  being  then  the  chief  import)  was 
originally  an  un(|ualified  seizure;  yet,  since  this  quantity 
was  called  "  the  king's  prisage  "  we  have  good  reason  for 
suspecting  that  it  was  so;  and  that  though,  afterwards,  the 
king's  officer  gave  something  in  return,  this,  being  at  his  op- 
tion, was  but  nominal.  The  very  name  "  customs,"  eventu- 
ally applied  to  commuted  payments  on  imports,  points  back 
to  a  preceding  time  when  this  yielding  up  of  portions  of 
cargoes  had  become  established  by  usage.  Confirmation  of 
this  inference  is  furnished  by  the  fact  that  internal  traders 
were  thus  dealt  with.  So  late  as  1309  it  was  complained 
"  that  the  officers  appointed  to  take  articles  for  the  king's  use 
in  fairs  and  markets,  took  more  than  they  ought,  and  nuide  a 
profit  of  the  surplus." 

Speaking  gcn{>rally  of  indirect  taxes,  we  may  say  that 
arising  when  the  power  of  the  ruler  becomes  sufficient  to 
change  gifts  into  exactions,  they  at  first  differ  from  other 


566  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

exactions  siiiii)ly  in  this,  that  they  are  enforced  on  occasions 
■u'hen  the  subject  is  more  than  usually  at  the  ruler's  mercy; 
either  because  he  is  exposing  commodities  for  sale  where 
they  can  be  easily  found  and  a  share  taken ;  or  because  he  is 
transferring  them  from  one  part  of  the  territory  to  another, 
and  can  be  readily  stop]icd  and  a  portion  demanded;  or  be- 
cause he  is  bringing  commodities  into  the  territory,  and  can 
have  them  laid  hands  on  at  one  of  the  few  places  of  con- 
venient entrance.  The  shares  apjjropriated  by  the  ruler, 
originally  in  kind,  are  early  commuted  into  money  where 
the  commodities  are  such  as,  by  reason  of  (piantity  or  distance, 
he  cannot  consume:  instance  the  load-jjcnny  })ayable  at  the 
pit's  mouth  on  each  waggon-load  to  the  old  English  kings. 
And  the  claim  comes  to  be  similarly  comumted  in  other 
cases,  as  fast  as  increasing  trade  brings  a  more  abundant  cir- 
culating medium,  and  a  greater  quantity  of  produced  and 
imported  commodities;  the  demanded  portions  of  which  it 
becomes  more  difficult  to  transport  and  to  utilize. 

§  546.  No  great  advantage  would  be  gained  by  here  going 
into  details."  The  foregoing  general  facts  appear  to  be  all 
that  it  is  needful  for  us  to  note. 

From  the  outset  the  growth  of  revenue  has,  like  that  growth 
of  the  political  headship  which  it  accompanies,  been  directly 
or  indirectly  a  result  of  war.  The  ])ro]')erty  of  conquered 
enemies,  at  first  goods,  cattle,  prisoners,  and  at  a  later  stage, 
land,  coming  in  larger  share  to  the  leading  warrior,  increases 
his  predominance.  To  secure  his  good  will,  which  it  is  now 
inqwrtant  to  do,  pro])itiatory  jn'csents  and  hel])  in  labour  are 
given ;  and  these,  as  his  power  further  grows,  become  periodic 
and  compulsory,  flaking  him  more  des])otic  at  the  same 
time  that  it  augments  his  kingdom,  continuance  of  this 
process  increases  his  ability  to  enforce  contributions,  alike 
from  his  original  subjects  and  from  tributaries;  while  the 
necessity  for  sup])lies,  now  to  defend  bis  kingdom,  now  to 
invade    adjacent    kingdoms,    is    ever    made    the    ])lea    for 


REVENUE.  567 

increasing  his  demands  of  established  kinds  and  for  making- 
new  ones.  Under  stress  of  the  alleged  needs,  portions  of 
their  goods  are  taken  from  subjects  whenever  they  are  ex- 
posed to  view  for  purposes  of  exchange.  And  as  the  primi- 
tive presents  of  property  and  labour,  once  voluntary  and 
variable,  but  becoming  gDuipulsory  and  periodic,  are  eventu- 
ally commuted  into  direct  taxes;  so  these  portions  of  the 
trader's  goods  which  were  originally  given  for  permission  to 
trade  and  then  seized  as  of  right,  come  eventually  to  be  trans- 
formed into  f)ercentages  of  value  paid  as  tolls  and  duties. 

But  to  the  last  as  at  first,  and  under  free  governments  as 
under  despotic  ones,  war  continues  to  be  the  usual  reason  for 
imposing  new  taxes  or  increasing  old  ones ;  at  the  same  time 
that  the  coercive  organization  in  past  times  developed  by 
war,  continues  to  be  the  means  of  exacting  them. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    MILITANT    TYPE    OF    SOCIETY. 

§  547.  Preceding  chapters  have  prepared  the  way  for 
framing*  conceptions  of  the  two  fundamentally-nnlike  kinds 
of  political  organization,  proper  to  the  militant  life  and  the 
industrial  life,  respectively.  It  will  be  instructive  here  to 
arrange  in  coherent  order,  those  traits  of  the  militant  t^^ie 
already  incidentally  marked,  and  to  join  with  them  various 
dependent  traits;  and  in  the  next  chapter  to  deal  in  like 
manner  with  the  traits  of  the  industrial  type. 

During  social  evolution  there  has  liabitually  been  a  min- 
gling of  the  tAvo.  But  we  shall  iind  that,  alike  in  theory  and 
in  fact,  it  is  possible  to  trace  with  due  clearness  those  opposite 
characters  which  distinguish  them  in  their  respective  com- 
plete developments.  Especially  is  the  nature  of  the  organiza- 
tion which  accompanies  chronic  militancy,  capable  of  being 
inferred  a  priori  and  proved  a  posteriori  to  exist  in  numer- 
ous cases.  While  the  nature  of  the  organization  accom- 
panying pure  industrialism,  of  which  at  present  we  have 
little  experience,  will  be  made  clear  by  contrast;  and  such 
illustrations  as  exist  of  progress  towards  it  will  become  recog- 
nizable. 

Two  liabilities  to  error  must  be  guarded  against.  AVe  have 
to  deal  with  societies  compounded  and  re-compounded  in  vari- 
ous degTces;  and  we  have  to  deal  with  societies  which,  differ- 
ing in  their  stages  of  culture,  have  their  structures  elaborated 
to  different  extents.  We  shall  be  misled,  therefore,  unless 
our  comparisons  are  such  as  take  account  of  unlikenesses 
in  size  and  in  civilization.      Clearly,  cliaracteristics  of  the 

militiint  type  which  admit  Vif  being  displayed  by  a  vast 

568 


THE   MILITANT   TYPE   OF  SOCIETY.  509 

nation,  may  not  admit  of  being  displayed  by  a  horde  of  sav- 
ages, though  this  is  equally  militant.  Moreover,  as  institu- 
tions take  long  to  acquire  their  finished  forms,  it  is  not  to 
be  expected  that  all  militant  societies  will  display  the  or- 
ganization appropriate  to  them  in  its  completeness.  Rather 
may  we  expect  that  in  most  cases  it  will  be  incompletely 
displayed. 

In  face  of  these  difficulties  the  best  course  will  be  to  con- 
sider, first,  what  are  the  several  traits  which  of  necessity  mili- 
tancy tends  to  produce;  and  then  to  observe  how  far  these 
traits  are  conjointly  shown  in  past  and  present  nations  distin- 
guished by  militancy.  Having  contemplated  the  society 
ideally  organized  for  war,  we  shall  be  prepared  to  recognize  in 
real  societies  the  characters  which  war  has  brought  about. 

§  548.  For  preserving  its  corporate  life,  a  society  is  im- 
pelled to  corporate  action;  and  the  preservation  of  its  cor- 
porate life  is  the  more  probable  in  proportion  as  its  corporate 
action  is  the  more  complete.  For  purposes  of  offence  and 
defence,  the  forces  of  individuals  have  to  be  combined ;  and 
Avhere  every  individual  contributes  his  force,  the  probability 
of  success  is  greatest.  Xumbers,  natures,  and  circumstances 
being  equal,  it  is  clear  that  of  two  tribes  or  two  larger  socie- 
ties, one  of  which  unites  the  actions  of  all  its  capable  mem- 
bers while  the  other  does  not,  the  first  will  ordinarily  be  the 
victor.  There  must  be  an  habitual  survival  of  communities 
in  which  militant  cooperation  is  universal. 

This  proposition  is  almost  a  truism.  But  it  is  needful  here, 
as  a  preliminary,  consciously  to  recognize  the  truth  that  the 
social  structure  evolved  by  chronic  militancy,  is  one  in  which 
all  men  fit  for  fighting  act  in  concert  against  other  societies. 
Such  further  actions  as  they  carry  on  they  can  carry  on 
separately;  but  this  action  they  must  carry  on  jointly. 

§  549.  A  society's  power  of  self-preservation  ^\•ill  l)e  great 
in  proportion  as,  besides  the  direct  aid  of  all  who  can  fight, 


570  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

there  is  given  the  indirect  aid  of  all  who  cannot  fight.  Snp- 
posing'  them  otherwise  similar,  those  coninmnities  will  sur- 
vi-\e  in  whieli  the  efforts  of  combatants  are  in  the  greatest 
degree  seconded  by  those  of  non-combatants.  In  a  purely 
militant  society,  therefore,  individuals  who  do  not  bear  arms 
have  to  spend  their  lives  in  furthering  the  maintenance  of 
those  who  do.  Whether,  as  happens  at  first,  the  non-com- 
batants are  exclusively  the  women;  or  whether,  as  happens 
hiter,  the  class  includes  enslaved  captives;  or  whether,  as 
happens  later  still,  it  includes  serfs;  the  implication  is  the 
same.  For  if,  of  two  societies  equal  in  other  respects,  the 
first  wholly  subordinates  its  workers  in  this  w^ay,  while  the 
workers  in  the  second  are  allowed  to  retain  for  themselves 
the  produce  of  their  labour,  or  more  of  it  than  is  needful  for 
maintaining  them;  then,  in  the  second,  the  warrioi's,  not 
otherwise  su[)ported,  or  supported  less  fully  than  they  might 
else  be,  will  have  partially  to  support  themselves,  and  will  be 
so  much  the  less  available  for  war  purposes.  ITence  in  the 
struggle  for  existence  between  such  societies,  it  must  usually 
happen  that  the  first  will  vanquish  the  second.  The  social 
type  produced  by  survival  of  the  fittest,  will  be  one  in  which 
the  fighting  part  includes  all  who  can  bear  arms  and  be 
trusted  with  arms,  while  the  remaining  part  serves  simply  as 
a  pennanent  connnissariat. 

An  obvious  implication,  of  a  significance  to  be  hereafter 
pointed  out,  is  that  the  non-combatant  part,  occupied  in  sup- 
porting the  combatant  part,  cannot  with  advantage  to  the 
self-preserving  power  of  the  society  increase  beyond  the  limit 
at  whicli  it  efficiently  fulfils  its  purpose.  For,  otherwise, 
some  who  might  be  fighters  are  superfluous  workers;  and  the 
fighting  power  of  the  society  is  made  less  than  it  might  be. 
Hence,  in  the  militant  type,  the  tendency  is  ior  the  l)()dy  of 
warriors  to  bear  the  largest  practicable  ratio  to  the  body  of 
workers. 

§  550.   (liven  two  societic^s  of  wliich  the  members  are  all 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  571 

either  warriors  or  those  who  supply  the  needs  of  warriors, 
and,  other  things  equal,  supremacy  will  be  gained  by  that  in 
which  the  efforts  of  all  are  most  effectually  combined.  In 
open  warfare  joint  action  triumphs  over  individual  action. 
Military  history  is  a  history  of  the  successes  of  men  trained 
to  move  and  fight  in  concert. 

Xot  only  must  there  be  in  the  fighting  part  a  combination 
such  that  the  powers  of  its  units  may  be  concentrated,  but 
there  must  be  a  combination  of  the  subservient  part  wdth  it. 
If  the  two  are  so  separated  that  they  can  act  independently, 
the  needs  of  the  fighting  part  will  not  be  adequately  met.  If 
to  be  cut  off  from  a  temporary  base  of  operations  is  danger- 
ous, still  more  dangerous  is  it  to  be  cut  off  from  the  per- 
manent base  of  operations ;  namely,,  that  constituted  by  the 
body  of  non-combatants.  This  has  to  be  so  connected  with 
the  body  of  combatants  that  its  services  may  be  fully  avail- 
able. Evidently,  therefore,  development  of  the  militant  type 
involves  a  close  binding  of  the  society  into  a  whole.  As  the 
loose  group  of  savages  yields  to  the  solid  phalanx,  so,  other 
things  equal,  must  the  society  of  which  the  parts  are  but 
feebly  held  together,  yield  to  one  in  wdiich  they  are  held  to- 
gether by  strong  bonds. 

§  551.  But  in  proi)ortion  as  men  are  compelled  to  cooper- 
ate, their  self-prompted  actions  are  restrained.  By  as  much 
as  the  unit  becomes  merged  in  the  mass,  by  so  much  does  he 
lose  his  individuality  as  a  unit.  And  this  leads  us  to  note  the 
several  ways  in  wdiicli  evolution  of  the  militant  ty])e  entails 
subordination  of  the  citizen. 

His  life  is  not  his  own,  but  is  at  the  disposal  of  his  society. 
So  long  as  he  remains  capable  of  bearing  anns  he  has  no  al- 
ternative but  to  fight  when  called  on;  and,  where  militancy 
is  extreme,  lie  cannot  return  as  a  vanquished  man  under  pen- 
alty of  death. 

Of  course,  wltli  this  there  goes  possession  of  such  liberty 
only  as  military  obligations  allow.      He  is  free  to  pursue  his 


572  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

private  cmls  oiilv  wlicii  I  he  tribe  or  nation  lias  no  need  of 

...... 

liim;  and  when  it  has  need  of  him,  his  actions  from  hour  to 

hour  must  conform,  not  to  his  own  will  but  to  the  public 

will. 

So,  too,  with  his  property.  Whether,  as  in  many  cases, 
what  he  holds  as  private  he  so  holds  by  permission  only,  or 
whether  private  ownership  is  recognized,  it  remains  true  that 
in  the  last  resort  he  is  obliged  to  surrender  whatever  is  de- 
manded for  the  community's  use. 

iJrietly,  then,  under  the  militant  type  the  individual  is 
owned  by  the  State.  "While  }>reservation  of  the  society  is  the 
primary  end,  preservation  of  each  member  is  a  secondary  end 
— ail  end  cared  for  chiefly  as  subserving  the  primary  end. 

§  552.  Fulfilment  of  these  requirements,  that  there  shall  be 
complete  corporate  action,  that  to  this  end  the  non-combatant 
part  shall  be  occupied  in  providing  for  the  combatant  part, 
that  the  entire  aggregate  shall  be  strongly  bound  together, 
and  that  the  units  composing  it  must  have  their  individuali- 
ties in  life,  liberty,  and  property,  thereby  subordinated,  pre- 
supposes a  coercive  instrumentality.  Xo  such  union  for 
corporate  action  can  be  achieved  without  a  powerful  con- 
trolling agency.  On  remembering  the  fatal  results  caused 
by  division  of  counsels  in  war,  or  by  separatiun  into  factions 
in  face  of  an  enemy,  we  see  that  chronic  militancy  tends  to 
develop  a  desj)otism ;  since,  other  things  equal,  those  societies 
Avill  liabJtually  survive  in  which,  by  its  aid,  the  corporate 
action  is  made  complete. 

And  this  invoh'es  a  system  of  cciitrali/ation.  The  trait 
made  familiar  to  us  by  an  army,  in  wliicli,  under  a  com- 
mander-in-chief there  are  secondary  commanders  over  large 
masses,  and  under  these  tertiary  ones  over  smaller  masses, 
and  so  on  down  to  the  ultimate  divisions,  must  characterize 
the  social  organization  at  large.  A  militant  society  requires 
a  regulative  structure  of  this  kind,   since,   otherwise,   its 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  573 

corporate  action  cannot  be  made  most  effectual.  Without 
such  grades  of  governing  centres  diffused  throughout  the 
non-combatant  part  as  well  as  the  combatant  part,  the  entire 
forces  of  the  aggregate  cannot  be  promptly  put  fortli.  Un- 
less the  workers  are  under  a  control  akin  to  that  which  the 
fighters  are  under,  their  indirect  aid  cannot  be  insured  in  full 
amount  and  with  due  quickness. 

And  this  is  the  form  of  a  society  characterized  by  stains —  f 
a  society,  the  members  of  which  stand  one  towards  another 
in  successive  grades  of  subordination.  From  the  despot  down 
to  the  slave,  all  are  masters  of  those  below  and  subjects  of 
those  above.  The  relation  of  the  child  to  the  father,  of  the 
father  to  some  superior,  and  so  on  up  to  the  absolute  head,  is 
one  in  which  the  individal  of  lower  status  is  at  the  mercy 
of  one  of  higher  status. 

§  553.  Otherwise  described,  the  process  of  miJitant  organi- 
zation is  a  process  of  regimentation,  which,  primarily  taking 
place  in  the  army,  secondarily  affects  the  whole  commu- 
nity. 

The  first  indication  of  this  we  trace  in  the  fact  everywhere 
visible,  that  the  military  head  grows  into  a  civil  head— usu- 
ally at  once,  and,  in  exceptional  cases,  at  last,  if  militancy 
continues.  Beginning  as  leader  in  war  he  becomes  ruler  in 
peace;  and  such  regulative  policy  as  he  pursues  in  the  one 
sphere,  he  pursues,  so  far  as  conditions  permit,  in  the  other. 
Being,  as  the  non-combatant  part  is,  a  permanent  commis- 
sariat, the  principle  of  gTaduated  subordination  is  extended 
to  it.  Its  members  come  to  be  directed  in  a  way  like  that  in 
which  the  warriors  are  directed — not  literally,  since  by  dis- 
persion of  the  one  and  concentration  of  the  other  exact  paral- 
lelism is  prevented ;  but,  nevertheless,  similarly  in  principle. 
Labour  is  carried  on  under  coercion;  and  supervision  spreads 
everywhere. 

To  suppose  that  a  despotic  military  head,  daily  maintain- 


574  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ing  regimental  control  in  conformity  with  inherited  tradi- 
tions, will  not  impose  on  the  prodncing  classes  a  kindred  con- 
trol, is  to  snpposc  in  him  sentiments  and  ideas  entirely  foreign 
to  his  circumstances. 

§  554.  The  nature  of  the  militant  form  of  government  will 
be  further  elucidated  on  observing  that  it  is  both  positively 
regulative  and  negatively  regulative.  It  does  not  simply  re- 
strain; it  also  enforces.  Besides  telling  the  individual  what 
he  shall  not  do,  it  tells  him  what  he  shall  do. 

That  the  government  of  an  army  is  thus  characterised 
needs  no  showing.  Indeed,  commands  of  the  positive  kind 
given  to  the  soldier  are  more  important  than  those  of  the 
negative  kind :  fighting  is  done  under  the  one,  while  order  is 
maintained  under  the  other.  But  here  it  chiefly  concerns  us 
to  note  that  not  only  the  control  of  military  life  but  also  the 
control  of  civil  life,  is,  under  the  militant  type  of  govern- 
ment, thus  characterized.  There  are  two  ways  in  which  the 
ruling  power  may  deal  with  the  private  indivi'dual.  It  may 
simply  limit  his  activities  to  those  which  he  can  carry  on 
without  aggression,  direct  or  indirect,  upon  others;  in  which 
case  its  action  is  negatively  regulative.  Or,  besides  doing' 
this,  it  may  prescribe  the  hcnv,  and  the  where,  and  the  when, 
of  his  activities — may  force  him  to  do  things  which  he  would 
not  spontaneously  do — may  direct  in  gTcater  or  less  detail  his 
mode  of  living;  in  which  case  its  action  is  positively  regula- 
tive. Under  the  militant  type  this  positively  regulative  ac- 
tion is  widespread  and  ])eremptory.  The  civilian  is  in  a  con- 
dition as  much  like  that  of  the  soldier  as  difference  of  occu- 
pation permits. 

And  this  is  another  way  of  expressing  the  truth  that  tlie 
fundamental  principle  of  the  militant  type  is  compulsory  co- 
operation. While  this  is  obviously  the  principle  on  which 
the  members  of  the  combatant  l)ody  act,  it  no  less  certainly 
must  be  the  principle  acted  on  throughout  the  non-combatant 
body,  if  military  efficiency  is  to  be  great;  since,  otherwise. 


THE   MILITANT  TYPE   OP   SOCIETY.  575 

the  aid  wliicli  the  non-comhatant  body  has  to  furnish  cannot 
be  insured. 

§  555.  That  binding  together  by  which  the  units  of  a 
militant  society  are  made  into  an  efficient  fighting  structure, 
tends  to  fix  the  position'  of  each  in  rank,  in  occupation,  and 
in  locality. 

In  a  graduated  regulative  organization  there  is  resistance 
to  change  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  grade.  Such  change  is 
made  difficult  by  lack  of  the  possessions  needed  for  filling- 
superior  positions;  and  it  is  made  difficult  by  the  opposition 
of  those  who  already  fill  them,  and  can  hold  inferioi*s  down. 
Preventing  intrusion  from  below,  these  transmit  their  respec- 
tive places  and  ranks  to  their  descendants;  and  as  the  prin- 
ciple of  inheritance  becomes  settled,  the  rigidity  of  the  social 
structure  becomes  decided.  Only  where  an  ''  egalitarian 
despotism  "  reduces  all  subjects  to  the  same  political  status — 
a  condition  of  decay  rather  than  of  development — does  the 
converse  state  arise. 

The  principle  of  inheritance,  becoming  established  in  re- 
spect of  the  classes  which  militancy  originates,  and  fixing  the 
general  functions  of  their  members  from  generation  to  gener- 
ation, tends  eventually  to  fix  also  their  special  functions. 
]^ot  on^y  do  men  of  the  slave-classes  and  the  artizan-classes 
succeed  to  their  respective  ranks,  but  they  succeed  to  the 
particular  occupations  carried  on  in  them.  This,  which  is  a 
result  of  the  tendency  towards  regimentation,  is  ascribable 
primarily  to  the  fact  that  a  superior,  requiring  from  each 
kind  of  worker  his  particular  product,  has  an  interest  in  re- 
placing him  at  death  by  a  capable  successor;  while  the 
worker,  prompted  to  get  aid  in  executing  his  tasks,  has  an  in- 
terest in  bringing  u])  a  son  to  his  own  occu])atioii :  the  will  of 
the  son  being  powerless  against  these  conspiring  interests. 
Under  the  system  of  compulsory  cooperation,  therefore,  the 
principle  of  inheritance,  s]">reading  through  the  jii'oducing 
organization,  causes  a  relative  riiiiditv  in  this  also. 


57G  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

A  kindred  effect  is  sliowu  in  the  entailed  restraints  on 
movement  from  place  to  place.  In  projxirtion  as  the  indi- 
vidual is  subordinated  in  iif(>,  liberty,  and  property,  to  his 
society,  it  is  needful  that  his  whereabouts  shall  be  constantly 
known.  Obviously  the  relation  of  the  soldier  to  his  officer, 
and  of  this  officer  to  his  superior,  i%  such  that  each  must  be 
ever  at  hand ;  and  where  the  militant  type  is  fully  develojied 
the  like  holds  throughout  the  society.  The  slave  cannot 
leave  his  appointed  abode;  the  serf  is  tied  to  his  allotment; 
the  master  is  not  allowed  to  absent  himself  from  his  locality 
without  leave. 

So  that  the  corjiorate  action,  the  combination,  the  cohesion, 
the  regimentation,  which  efficient  militancy  necessitates,  im- 
ply a  structure  which  strongly  resists  change. 

§  556.  A  further  trait  of  the  militant  type,  naturally  ac- 
companying the  last,  is  that  organizations  otlun*  than  those 
forming  parts  of  the  State-organization,  are  wholly  or  })ar- 
tially  repressed.  The  public  combination  occupying  all  fields, 
excludes  private  combinations. 

For  the  achievement  of  complete  corporate  action  there 
must,  as  we  have  seen,  be  a  centralized  adniinistrati(m,  not 
only  throughout  the  combatant  part  but  throughout  the  non- 
combatant  part;  and  if  there  exist  unions  of  citizen^s  which 
act  independently,  they  in  so  far  diminish  the  range  of  this 
centralized  administration.  Any  structures  which  are  not 
portions  of  the  State-structure,  serve  more  or  less  as  limita- 
tions to  it,  and  stand  in  the  way  of  the  required  unlimited 
subordination.  If  ])rivate  combinations  arc  allowed  to  exist, 
it  will  be  on  condition  of  submitting  to  an  ofliciiil  rcLiiilatioii 
such  as  greatly  restrains  indc])cndcnt  action;  and  since  ])ri- 
vate  cond)inations  (jtficially  regulated  are  inevitably  hindered 
from  doing  things  not  conforming  to  cstablislicd  routine, 
and  are  thus  debarred  fnjm  improvement,  they  cannot  ha- 
bitually thrive  :ind  grow.  Obviously,  indeed,  such  com- 
binations, l)ascd  nil  tjic  piiiiciplc  of  voluntary  cooperation, 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.  677 

are  incongruous  with  social  arrangements  based  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  compulsory  cooperation.  Hence  the  militant  type 
is  characterized  by  the  absence,  or  comparative  rarity,  of 
bodies  of  citizens  associated  for  commercial  purposes,  for 
propagating  special  religious  views,  for  achieving  philan- 
thropic ends,  &c. 

Private  combiuations  of  one  kind,  however,  are  congruous 
with  the  militant  type — the  combinations,  namely,  which  are 
formed  for  minor  defensive  or  offensive  purposes.  We  have, 
as  examples,  those  which  constitute  factions,  very  general  in 
militant  societies;  those  which  belong  to  the  same  class  as 
primitive  giiilds,  serving  for  mutual  protection;  and  those 
which  take  the  shape  of  secret  societies.  Of  such  bodies  it 
may  be  noted  that  they  fulfil  on  a  small  scale  ends  like  those 
which  the  whole  society  fulfils  on  a  large  scale — the  ends  of 
self-preservation,  or  aggression,  or  both.  And  it  may  be 
further  noted  that  these  small  included  societies  are  organ- 
ized on  the  same  principle  as  the  large  including  society — the 
principle  of  compulsory  cooperation.  Their  governments  are 
coercive :  in  some  cases  even  to  the  extent  of  killing  those  of 
their  members  who  are  disobedient. 

§  557.  A  remaining  fact  to  be  set  down  is  that  a  society 
of  the  militant  type  tends  to  evolve  a  self-sufficient  sustain- 
ing organization.  With  its  political  autonomy  there  goes 
what  we  may  call  an  economic  autonomy.  Evidently  if  it 
carries  on  frequent  wars  against  surrounding  societies,  its 
commercial  intercourse  with  them  must  be  hindered  or  pre- 
vented: exchange  of  commodities  can  go  on  to  but  a  small 
extent  between  those  who  are  continually  fighting.  A  mili- 
tant society  must,  therefore,  to  the  greatest  degree  practica- 
ble, provide  internally  the  supplies  of  all  articles  needful  for 
carrying  on  the  lives  of  its  membcre.  Sucli  an  economic 
state  as  that  wliich  existed  during  early  feudal  times,  when, 
as  in  Trance,  "  the  castles  made  almost  all  the  articles  used 
in  them,"  is  a  state  evidently  entailed  on  groups,  small  or 


578  POLITICAL  INSTITL^TIONS. 

large,  wliicli  are  in  oonstant  antagonism  Avith  surrounding 
groups.  If  there  does  not  already  exist  within  any  group  so 
circumstanced,  an  agency  for  producing  some  necessary  arti- 
cle, inability  to  obtain  it  from  without  will  lead  to  the 
establishment  of  an  agency  for  obtaining  it  within. 

AVhence  it  follows  that  the  desire  "  not  to  be  dependent  on 
foreigners  "  is  pne  appropriate  to  the  militant  type  of  society. 
So  long  as  there  is  constant  danger  that  the  supplies  of  need- 
ful things  derived  from  other  countries  will  be  cut  off  by  the 
breaking  out  of  hostilities,  it  is  imperative  that  there  shall  be 
maintained  a  power  of  producing  these  supplies  at  home,  and 
that  to  this  end  the  rcciuired  structures  shall  be  maintained. 
Hence  there  is  a  manifest  direct  relation  between  militant 
activities  and  a  protectionist  policy. 

§  558.  And  now  having  observed  the  traits  which  may  be 
expected  to  establish  themselves  by  survival  of  the  fittest  dur- 
ing the  struggle  for  existence  among  societies,  let  us  observe 
how  these  traits  are  displayed  in  actual  societies,  similar  in 
respect  of  their  militancy  but  other^\^se  dissimilar. 

Of  course  in  small  primitive  groups,  however  warlike  they 
may  be,  we  must  not  look  for  more  than  rude  outlines  of  the 
structure  proper  to  the  militant  type.  Being  loosely  aggre- 
gated, definite  arrangement  of  their  parts  can  be  carried  but 
to  a  small  extent.  Still,  so  far  as  it  goes,  the  evidence  is  to 
the  point.  The  fact  that  habitually  the  fighting  body  is  co- 
extensive with  the  adult  male  population,  is  so  familiar  that 
no  illustrations  are  needed.  An  equally  familiar  fact  is  that 
the  women,  o('cn]iving  a  servile  jiosition,  do  all  flic  unskilled 
labonr  and  Ix-ar  tlic  l)ur(lcns;  with  wliich  may  bo  joined  the 
fact  tliat  not  unfnvpiently  during  war  tli(>v  carry  the  su])j)lies, 
as  in  Asia  among  the  Bhils  and  Khoiids,  as  in  Polynesia 
among  the  new  Caledonians  and  Sandwich  Islanders,  as  in 
America  among  the  Comanches,  ^NfHndrncus,  Patagonians: 
their  office  as  forming  the  permanent  commissariat  b«ing  thus 
clearly  shown.     We  see,  too,  tliat  where  the  enslaving  of 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.  579 

captives  lias  arisen,  these  also  serve  to  support  and  aid  the 
combatant  class;  acting  during  peace  as  producers  and  dur- 
ing war  joining  the  women  in  attendance  on  the  army,  as 
among  the  ^STew  Zealanders,  or,  as  among  the  Malagasy,  being 
then  exclusively  the  carriers  of  provisions,  &c.  Again,  in 
these  first  stages,  as  in  later  stages,  we  are  shown  that  private 
claims  are,  in  the  militant  type,  over-ridden  by  public  claims. 
The  life  of  each  man  is  held  subject  to  the  needs  of  the 
group;  and,  by  implication,  his  freedom  of  action  is  similarly 
held.  So,  too,  with  his  goods ;  as  instance  the  remark  made 
of  the  Brazilian  Indians,  that  personal  property,  recognized 
but  to  a  limited  extent  during  peace,  is  scarcely  at  all  recog- 
nized during  war;  and  as  instance  Hearne's  statement  con- 
cerning certain  hyperborean  tribes  of  j^orth  America  when 
about  to  make  war,  that  *'  property  of  every  kind  that  could 
be  of  general  use  now  ceased  to  be  private."  To  which  add 
the  cardinal  truth,  once  more  to  be  repeated,  that  where  no 
political  subordination  exists  war  initiates  it.  Tacitly  or 
overtly  a  chief  is  temporarily  acknowledged;  and  he  gains 
permanent  power  if  war  continues.  From  these  beginnings  . 
of  the  militant  type  which  small  gToups  show  us,  let  us  pass 
to  its  developed  forms  as  showni  in  larger  groups. 

"  The  army,  or  what  'is  nearly  synonymous,  the  nation  of 
Dahome,"  to  quote  Burton's  words,  furnishes  us  with  a  good 
example:  the  excessive  militancy  being  indicated  by  the  fact- 
that  the  royal  bedroom  is  paved  with  skulls  of  enemies. 
Here  the  king  is  absolute,  and  is  regarded  as  supernatural  in 
character — he  is  the  "•  spirit;  "  and  of  course  he  is  the  re- 
ligious head — he  ordains  the  priests.  He  absorbs  in  himself 
all  powers  and  all  rights:  "  by  the  state-law  of  Dahome  . " .  . 
all  men  arc  slaves  to  the  king."  He  "  is  heir  to  all  his  sub- 
jects; "  and  he  takes  from  living  subjects  whatever  he  likes. 
When  we  add  that  there  is  a  frequent  killing  of  victims  to 
carry  messages  to  the  other  world,  as  well  as  occasions  on 
which  pumbers  are  sacrificed  to  supply  deceased  kings  with 
attendants,  we  are  shown  that  life,  liberty,  and  propertv,  are 
00 


580  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

at  the  entire  disposal  of  the  State  as  represented  by  its  head, 
lu  both  the  civil  and  military  organizations,  the  centres  and 
sub-centres  of  control  are  numerous.  Xames,  very  gener- 
ally given  by  the  king  and  replacing  surnames,  change  "  with 
every  rank  of  the  holder;  "  and  so  detailed  is  the  regimenta- 
tion that  "  the  dignities  seem  interminable."  There  are 
numerous  sumptuary  laws;  and,  according  to  Waitz,  no  one 
wears  any  other  clothing  or  weapons  than  what  the  king  gives 
him  or  allows  him.  Under  penalty  of  slavery  or  death,  "  no 
man  must  alter  the  construction  of  his  house,  sit  upon  a  chair, 
or  be  carried  on  a  hammock,  or  drink  out  of  a  glass,"  without 
permission  of  the  king. 

The  ancient  Peruvian  empire,  gradually  established  by  the 
conquering  Yncas,  may  next  be  instanced.  Here  the  ruler, 
divinely  descended,  sacred,  absolute,  was  the  centre  of  a  sys- 
tem which  minutely  controlled  all  life.  His  headship  was 
at  once  military,  political,  ecclesiastical,  judicial;  and  the 
entire  nation  was  composed  of  those  who,  in  the  capacity  of 
soldiers,  labourers,  and  officials,  were  slaves  to  him  and  his 
deified  ancestors.  Military  service  was  obligatory  on  all  tax- 
able Indians  who  were  capable;  and  those  of  them  who  had 
served  their  prescribed  terms,  formed  into  reserves,  had  then 
to  work  under  State-superintendence.  The  army  having 
heads  (jver  groups  of  ten,  fifty,  a  hundred,  five  hundred,  a 
thousand,  ten  thousand,  had,  besides  these,  its  superior  com- 
manders of  Ynca  blood.  The  community  at  large  was  sub- 
ject to  a  parallel  regimentation :  the  inhabitants  registered  in 
groups,  being  under  the  control  of  officers  over  tens,  fifties, 
hundreds,  and  so  on.  And  through  these  successive  grades 
of  centres,  reports  ascended  to  the  Ynca-governors  of  great 
divisions,  jjassing  on  from  them  to  the  Ynca ;  while  his  orders 
descended  "  from  rank  to  rank  till  they  reached  the  lowest." 
There  was  an  ecclesiastical  organization  similarly  elaborate, 
having,  for  example,  five  classes  of  diviners;  and  there  was 
an  organization  of  spies  to  examine  and  report  upon  the 
doings  of  the  other  officers.       Everything  was  under  public 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE   OP  SOCIETY.  581 

inspection.  1'liere  were  village-officers  wlio  overlooked  the 
ploughing',  sowing,  and  harvesting.  When  there  was  a  deli- 
ciency  of  rain,  measured  quantities  of  water  were  supplied 
by  the  State.  All  who  travelled  without  authority  were 
punished  as  vagabonds;  but  for  those  who  were  authorized 
to  travel  for  public  purposes,  there  were  establishments  sup- 
plying lodging  and  necessaries.  "  It  was  the  duty  of  the 
decurions  to  see  that  the  people  were  clothed;  "  and  the 
kinds  of  cloth,  decorations,  badges,  &c.,  to  be  w^orn  by  the 
dilt'erent  ranks- were  prescribed.  Besides  this  regulation  of 
external  life  there  was  regulation  of  domestic  life.  The  peo- 
ple were  required  to  '"  dine  and  sup  with  open  doors,  that  the 
judges  might  be  able  to  enter  freely;  "  and  these  judges  had 
to  see  that  the  house,  clothes,  furniture,  &c.,  were  kept  clean 
and  in  order,  and  the  children  properly  disciplined:  those 
who  mismanaged  their  houses  being  flogged.  Subject  to  this 
minute  control,  the  people  laboured  to  support  this  elaborate 
State-organization.  The  jwlitical,  religious,  and  military 
classes  were  exempt  from  tribute ;  while  the  labouring  classes 
when  not  serving  in  the  army,  had  to  yield  up  all  produce  be- 
yond that  required  for  their  bare  sustenance.  Of  the  whole 
empire,  one-third  was  allotted  for  supporting  the  State,  one- 
third  for  supporting  the  priesthood  who  ministered  to  the 
manes  of  ancestors,  and  the  remaining  third  had  to  support 
the  workers.  Besides  giving  tribute  by  tilling  the  lands  of 
the  Sun  and  the  King,  the  workers  had  to  till  the  lands  of  the 
soldiers  on  duty,  as  well  as  those  of  incapables.  And  they 
also  had  to  pay  tribute  of  clothes,  shoes,  and  arms.  Of  the 
lands  on  which  the  people  maintained  themselves,  a  tract  was 
apportioned  to  each  man  according  to  the  size  of  his  family. 
Similarly  with  the  produce  of  the  flocks.  Such  moiety  of 
this  in  each  district  as  was  not  required  for  supplying  public 
needs,  was  periodically  shorn,  and  the  wool  divided  by  offi- 
cials. These  arrangements  were  in  pursuance  of  the  principle 
that  "  the  private  projierty  of  each  man  was  held  by  favour  of 
the  Ynca,  and  according  to  their  laws  he  had  no  other  title  to 


582  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

it."  Thus  the  people,  completely  possessed  by  the  State  in 
person,  property,  and  labour,  transplanted  to  this  or  that  lo- 
cality as  the  Ynca  directed,  and,  when  not  serving  as  soldiers, 
living  nnder  a  disc'i})liiu'  like  that  within  the  army,  were  units 
in  a  centralized  regimented  machine,  moved  throughout  life 
to  the  greatest  practicable  extent  by  the  Ynca's  will,  and  to 
the  least  practicable  extent  by  their  own  wills.  And,  natu- 
rally, along  with  militant  organization  thus  carried  to  its  ideal 
limit,  there  went  an  almost  entire  absence  of  any  other  or- 
ganization. J'hey  had  no  money;  "  they  neither  sold  clothes, 
nor  houses,  nor  estates;  "  and  trade  was  represented  among 
them  by  scarcely  anything  more  than  some  bartering  of  arti- 
cles of  food. 

So  far  as  accounts  of  it  show,  ancient  Egypt  presented 
phenomena  allied  in  their  general,  if  not  in  their  special,  cha- 
racters. Its  predominant  militancy  during  remote  unre- 
corded times,  is  sufficiently  implied  by  the  vast  population  of 
slaves  who  toiled  to  build  the  pyramids;  and  its  subsequent 
continued  militancy  we  are  shown  alike  by  the  boasting 
records  of  its  kings,  and  the  delineations  of  their  triumphs  on 
its  temple-walls.  Along  with  this  form  of  activity  we  have, 
as  before,  the  god-descended  ruler,  limited  in  his  powers  only 
by  the  usages  transmitted  from  his  divine  ancestors,  who  was 
at  once  ]M)litical  head,  high  ])riest,  and  commander-in-chief. 
Under  him  was  a  centralized  organization,  of  wliich  the  civil 
part  was  arranged  in  classes  and  sub-classes  as  definite  as 
were  those  of  the  militant  ])art.  Of  the  four  great  social  divi- 
sions— priests,  soldiers,  traders,  and  connnon  people,  beneath 
\\hom  came  the  slaves — the  first  contained  more  than  a  score 
different  orders;  the  second,  some  half-dozen  beyond  those 
constituted  by  military  grades;  tlic  third,  nearly  a  dozen;  and 
the  fourth,  a  still  greater  number.  Though  within  the  ruling 
classes  the  castes  were  not  so  rigorously  defined  as  to  prevent 
change  of  function  in  successive  generations,  yet  Herodotus 
and  Diodorus  state  that  industrial  occupations  descended 
from  father  to  son :  "  every  particular  trade  and  manufacture 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  583 

was  carried  on  bj  its  own  craftsmen,  and  none  changed  from 
one  trade  to  another."  How  elaborate  was  the  regimentation 
may  be  judged  from  the  detailed  account  of  the  staff  of  of- 
ficers and  workers  engaged  in  one  of  their  vast  quarries: 
the  numbers  and  kinds  of  functionaries  paralleling  those  of 
an  army.  To  support  this  highly-developed  regulative  or- 
ganization, civil,  military,  and  sacerdotal  (an  organization 
which  held  exclusive  possession  of  the  land)  the  lower  classes 
laboured.  "  Overseers  were  set  over  the  wretched  people, 
who  were  urged  to  hard  work  more  by  the  punishment  of  the 
stick  than  words  of  warning."  And  whether  or  not  ofHcial 
oversight  included  domiciliary  visits,  it  at  any  rate  went  to 
the  extent  of  taking  note  of  each  family.  "  Every  man  was 
required  under  pain  of  death  to  give  an  account  to  the  magis- 
trate of  how  he  earned  his  livelihood." 

Take,  now,  another  ancient  society,  which,  strongly  con- 
trasted in  sundry  respects,  shows  us,  along  mth  habitual 
militancy,  the  assumption  of  structural  traits  allied  in  their 
fundamental  characters  to  those  thus  far  observed.  I  refer 
to  Sparta.  That  warfare  did  not  among  the  Spartans  evolve 
a  single  despotic  head,  while  in  part  due  to  causes  which,  as 
before  shown,  favour  the  development  of  compound  political 
heads,  was  largely  due  to  the  accident  of  their  double  king- 
ship: the  presence  of  two  divinely-descended  chiefs  pre- 
vented the  concentration  of  power.  But  though  from  this 
cause  there  continued  an  imperfectly  centralized  government, 
the  relation  of  this  government  to  members  of  the  community 
was  substantially  like  that  of  militant  governments  in  gen- 
eral. Notwithstanding  the  serfdom,  and  in  towns  the  slavery, 
of  the  Helots,  and  notwithstanding  the  political  subordination 
of  the  Perioeki,  they  all,  in  common  with  the  Spartans  proper, 
were  under  obligation  to  military  service:  the  working  func- 
tion of  the  first,  and  the  trading  function,  so  far  as  it  existed, 
which  was  carried  on  by  the  second,  were  subordinate  to  the 
militant  function,  with  which  the  third  was  exclusively  occu- 
pied.    And  the  civil  divisions  thus  marked  re-appeared  in 


5S4  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

the  military  divisions:  "•  at  tlie  battle  of  Platiea  every  Spartan 
lioplite  had  seven  Helots,  and  every  Perioeki  hoplite  one  Jlclot 
to  attend  him."  The  extent  to  which,  by  the  daily  military 
discipline,  prescribed  military  mess,  and  fixed  contributions  of 
food,  the  individual  life  of  the  Spartan  was  subordinated  to 
public  demands,  from  seven  years  upwards,  needs  mention 
only  to  show  the  rigidity  of  the  restraints  which  here,  as  else- 
where, the  militant  ty])e  imposes — restraints  which  were 
further  shown  in  the  prescribed  age  for  marriage,  the  preven- 
tion of  domestic  life,  the  forbidding  of  industry'or  any  money- 
seeking  occui)ation,  the  interdict  on  going  abroad  without 
leave,  and  the  authorized  censorship  under  which  his  days 
and  nights  were  passed.  There  was  fully  carried  out  in  Sparta 
the  Greek  theory  of  society,  that  "  the  citizen  belongs  neither 
to  himself  nor  to  his  family,  but  to  his  city."  So  that  though 
in  this  exceptional  case,  chronic  militancy  was  prevented  from 
developing  a  supreme  head,  owning  the  individual  citizen 
in  body  and  estate,  yet  it  developed  an  essentially  identical 
relation  between  the  community  as  a  whole  and  its  units. 
The  community,  exercising  its  power  through  a  compound 
head  instead  of  through  a  simple  head,  completely  enslaved 
the  individual.  While  the  lives  and  labours  of  the  Helots 
were  devoted  exclusively  to  the  sn])))()rt  of  those  who  foniuMl 
the  military  organization,  the  lives  and  labours  of  those  who 
formed  the  military  organization  were  exclusively  devoted  to 
the  service  of  the  State:  they  were  slaves  with  a  difference. 

Of  modern  illustrations,  that  furnished  by  Russia  will 
suffice.  Here,  again,  with  the  wars  which  eflFected  concjuests 
and  consolidations,  came  the  development  of  tli(>  victorious 
conniiander  into  the  absolute  ruler,  who,  if  not  divine  by 
alleged  origin,  yet  acquired  something  like  divine  preslige. 
"  All  men  are  equal  before  God,  and  the  Russians'  God  is  the 
Emperor,"  says  De  Custine:  "the  supreme  governor  is  so 
raised  above  earth,  that  he  sees  no  difference  between  the 
serf  and  the  lord."  ruder  the  stress  of  Peter  the  Great's 
■wars,  which,  as  the  nobles  complaincil,  took  them  away  from 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  585 

their  homes,  "  not,  as  formerly,  for  a  single  campaign,  but  for 
long  years,"  they  became  ^'  servants  of  the  State,  without 
privileges,  without  dignity,  subjected  to  corporal  punish- 
ment, and  burdened  with  onerous  duties  from  which  there 
was  no  escape."  "  Any  noble  who  refused  to  serve  ['  the 
State  in  the  Army,  the  Fleet,  or  the  Civil  Administration, 
from  boyhood  to  old  age,']  was  not  onl}^  deprived  of  his  es- 
tate, as  in  the  old  times,  but  was  declared  to  be  a  traitor,  and 
might  be  condemned  to  capital  punishment."  "  Under 
Peter,"  says  Wallace,  "  all  offices,  civil  and  military,"  were 
"  arranged  in  fourteen  classes  or  ranks;  "  and  he  "  defined 
the  obligations  of  each  with  microscopic  minuteness.  After 
his  death  the  work  was  carried  on  in  the  same  spirit,  and  the 
tendency  reached  its  climax  in  the  reign  of  Xicholas."  In 
the  words  of  De  Custine,  "  the  tchinn  [the  name  for  this  or- 
ganization] is  a  nation  formed  into  a  regiment ;  it  is  the  mili- 
tary system  applied  to  all  classes  of  society,  even  to  those  who 
never  go  to  war."  With  this  universal  regimentation  in 
structure  went  a  regimental  discijDline.  The  conduct  of  life 
was  dictated  to  the  citizens  at  large  in  the  same  way  as  to  sol- 
diers. In  the  reign  of  Peter  and  his  successors,  domestic  en- 
tertainments were  appointed  and  regulated ;  the  people  were 
compelled  to  change  their  costumes;  the  clergy  to  cut  off 
their  beards;  and  even  the  harnessing  of  horses  was  accord- 
ing to  pattern.  Occupations  were  controlled  to  the  extent 
tliat  "  no  boyard  could  enter  any  profession,  or  forsake  it 
when  embraced,  or  retire  from  public  to  private  life,  or  dis- 
pose of  his  pro[>erty,  or  travel  into  any  foreign  country,  with- 
out the  permission  of  the  Czar."  Tliis  oiiini]ir(^sc]it  rule  is 
well  expressed  in  the  close  of  certain  rhymes,  for  which  a 
military  officer  was  sent  to  Siberia : — 

"Tout  se  fait  par  ukase  ici; 
C'est  par  ukase  que  Tou  voyage, 
"C'est  par  ukase  que  I'on  rit." 

Taking  thus  the  existing  barbarous  society  of  Dahomey, 
formed  of  negroes,  the  extinct  semi-civilized  empire  of  the 


586  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Yncas,  whose  subjects  were  remote  in  blood  from  these,  the 
ancient  Egyptian  empire  peopled  by  yet  other  races,  the  com- 
munity of  the  Spartans,  again  unlike  in  the  type  of  its  men, 
and  the  existing  Russian  nation  made  up  of  Slavs  and  Tatars, 
we  have  before  us  cases  in  which  such  similarities  of  social 
structure  as  exist,  cannot  be  ascribed  to  inheritance  of  a  com- 
mon character  by  the  social  units.  The  immense  contrasts 
between  the  populations  of  these  several  societies,  too,  vary- 
ing from  millions  at  the  one  extreme  to  thousands  at  the 
other,  negative  the  supposition  that  their  comifion  structural 
traits  are  consequent  on  size.  Xor  can  it  be  supposed  that 
likenesses  of  conditions  in  respect  of  climate,  surface,  soil, 
flora,  fauna,  or  likenesses  of  habits  caused  by  such  conditions, 
can  have  had  anything  to  do  with  the  likenesses  of  organi- 
zation in  these  societies ;  for  their  respective  habitats  present 
numerous  marked  unlikenesses.  Such  traits  as  they  one 
and  all  exhibit,  not  ascribable  to  any  other  cause,  must  thus 
be  ascribed  to  the  habitual  militancy  characteristic  of  them 
all.  The  results  of  induction  alone  would  go  far  to  war- 
rant this  ascription;  and  it  is  fully  warranted  by  their 
correspondence  with  the  results  of  deduction,  as  set  forth 
above. 

§  559.  Any  remaining  doubts  must  disappear  on  obser\nng 
how  continued  militancy  is  followed  by  further  development 
of  the  militant  organization.     Three  illustrations  will  suffice. 

"When,  during  Ttoman  conquests,  the  tendency  for  the  suc- 
cessful general  to  become  despot,  repeatedly  displayed,  finally 
took  effect — when  the  title  imperator,  military  in  its  primary 
meaning,  became  tlie  title  for  the  civil  ruler,  sliowing  us  on  a 
higher  platform  that  genesis  of  political  headship  out  of  mili- 
tary headship  visible  from  the  beginning — wIkmi,  as  usually 
happens,  an  increasingly  divine  character  was  acquired  by 
the  civil  ruler,  as  shown  in  the  assumption  of  the  sacreji 
name  Augustus,  as  well  as  in  the  growth  of  an  actual  worship 
of  him ;  there  simultaneously  became  more  pronounced  those 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  587 

further  traits  which  characterize  the  militant  type  in  its 
develoiDed  form.  Practically,  if  not  nominally,  the  other 
powers  of  the  State  were  absorbed  by  him.  In  the  words  of 
Duruy,  he  had— ^ 

"The  right  of  proposing,  that  is,  of  making  laws;  of  receiving  and 
trying  appeals,  i.e.  the  supreme  jurisdiction ;  of  arresting  by  the  tribu- 
nitian  veto  every  measure  and  every  sentence,  i.e.  of  putting  his  will  in 
opposition  to  the  laws  and  magistrates ;  of  summoning  the  senate  or  the 
people  and  presiding  over  it,  i.e.  of  directing  the  electoral  assemblies  as 
he  thought  fit.  And  these  prerogatives  he  will  have  not  for  a  single 
year  but  for  life ;  not  in  Rome  only  .  .  .  but  throughout  the  empire ; 
not  shared  with  ten  colleagues,  but  exercised  by  himself  alone ;  lastly, 
■without  any  account  to  render,  since  he  never  resigns  his  office." 
Along  with  these  changes  went  an  increase  in  the  .number 
and  definiteness  of  social  divisions.  The  Emperor — 
"Placed  between  himself  and  the  masses  a  multitude  of  people  regu- 
larly classed  by  categories,  and  piled  one  above  the  other  in  such  a  way 
that  this  hierarchy,  pressing  with  all  its  weight  upon  the  masses  under- 
neath, held  the  people  and  factious  individuals  powerless.  What 
remained  of  the  old  patrician  nobility  had  the  foremost  rank  in  the  city ; 
.  .  .  below  it  came  the  senatorial  nobility,  half  hereditary ;  below  that 
the  moneyed  nobility  or  equestrian  order — three  aristocracies  super- 
posed. .  .  .  The  sous  of  senators  formed  a  class  intermediate  between 
the  senatorial  and  the  equestrian  order.  ...  In  the  2nd  century  the 
senatorial  families  formed  an  hereditary  nobility  with  privileges." 
At  the  same  time  the  administrative  organization  was  greatly 
extended  and  complicated. 

"Augustus  created  a  large  number  of  new  offices,  as  the  superintend- 
ence of  public  works,  roads,  aqueducts,  the  Tiber-bed,  distribution  of 
corn  to  the  people.  ...  He  also  created  numerous  offices  of  procura- 
tors for  the  financial  administration  of  the  empire,  and  in  Rome  there 
were  1,060  municipal  officers." 

The  structural  character  proper  to  an  army  spread  in  a  double 
way:  military  officers  acquired  civil  functions  and  function- 
aries of  a  civil  kind  became  partially  military.  The  magis- 
trates appointed  by  the  Emperor,  tending  to  replace  those  ap- 
pointed by  the  people,  had,  along  with  their  civil  authority, 
military  authority;  and  while  ^'  under  Augustus  the  prefects 
of  the  pretorium  were  only  niilitarv  chiefs,  .  .  .  thevgrndn- 
ally  possessed  themselves  of  the  whole  civil  authority,  and 


588  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

finally  became,  after  the  Emperor,  the  first  personages  in  the 
empire."  Moreover,  the  governmental  structures  grew  by 
incorporating  bodies  of  functionaries  who  were  before  inde- 
pendent. "  111  his  ardour  to  organize  everything,  he  aimed  at 
regimenting  the  law  itself,  and  made  an  official  magistracy  of 
that  which  had  always  been  a  free  profession."  To  enforce 
the  rule  of  this  extended  administration,  the  army  was  made 
permanent,  and  subjected  to  severe  discipline.  With  the  con- 
tinued growth  of  the  regulating  and  coercing  organization, 
the  drafts  on  producers  increased ;  and,  as  shoWn  by  extracts 
in  a  previous  chapter  concerning  the  Roman  regime  in  Egypt 
and  in  Gaul,  the  working  ])art  of  the  community  was  reduced 
more  and  more  to  the  form  of  a  permanent  commissariat.  In 
Italy  the  condition  eventually  arrived  at  was  one  in  which 
vast  tracts  were  "  intrusted  to  freedmen,  whose  only  consider- 
ation was  .  ,  .  how  to  extract  from  their  labourers  the  great- 
est amount  of  work  with  the  smallest  (]uantity  of  food." 

An  example  under  our  immediate  observation  may  next  be 
taken — that  of  the  German  Empire.  Such  traits  of  the 
militant  type  in  Germany  as  were  before  manifest,  have, 
since  the  late  war,  become  still  more  manifest.  The  army, 
active  and  passive,  including  officers  and  attached  function- 
aries, has  been  increased  by  about  1 00,000  men ;  and  changes 
in  1875  and  1880,  making  certain  reserves  more  available, 
have  practically  caused  a  further  increase  of  like  amount. 
Moreover,  the  smaller  German  States,  having  in  great  part 
surrendered  the  administration  of  their  several  contingents, 
the  German  army  has  become  more  consolidated;  and  even 
the  armies  of  Saxony,  AViirtcnilxM-g,  and  I>avaria,  being  sub- 
ject to  Imperial  supervision,  have  in  so  far  censed  to  be  inde- 
pendent. Instead  of  each  year  granting  military  supplies, 
as  had  been  the  practice  in  Pnissia  before  the  formation  of 
the  I^orth  German  Confederation,  the  Parliament  of  the 
Empire  was,  in  1871,  induced  to  vote  the  required  annual 
sum  for  three  years  thereafter;  in  1874  it  did  the  like  for  the 
succeeding  seven  years;    and   again   in   1880   the  greatly 


THE   MILITANT   TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  589 

increased  amount  for  the  augmented  army  was  authorized  for 
the  seven  years  then  following:  steps  obviously  surrendering 
popular  checks  on  Imperial  power.  Simultaneously,  military 
officialism  has  been  in  two  ways  replacing  civil  officialism. 
Subaltern  officers  are  rewarded  for  long  services  by  appoint- 
ments to  civil  posts — local  communes  being  forced  to  give 
them  the  preference  to  civilians;  and  not  a  few  members  of 
the  higher  civil  service,  and  of  the  universities,  as  well  as 
teachers  in  the  public  schools,  having  served  as  "  volunteers 
of  one  year,"  become  commissioned  officers  of  the  Landwehr. 
During  the  struggles  of  the  so-called  Ivulturkampf ,  the  eccle- 
siastical organization  became  more  subordinated  by  the  polit- 
ical. Priests  suspended  by  bishops  were  maintained  in  their 
offices;  it  was  made  penal  for  a  clergyman  publicly  to  take 
part  against  the  government;  a  recalcitrant  bishop  had  his 
salary  stopped ;  the  curriculum  for  ecclesiastics  was  prescribed 
by  the  State,  and  examination  by  State-officials  required;' 
church  discipline  was  subjected  to  State-approval;  and  a 
power  of  expelling  rebellious  clergy  from  the  country  was 
established.  Passing  to  the  industrial  activities  we  may 
note,  first,  that  through  sundry  steps,  from  1873  onwards, 
there  has  been  a  progressive  transfer  of  railways  into  the 
hands  of  the  State;  so  that,  partly  by  original  construction 
(mainly  of  lines  for  military  purposes),  and  partly  by  pur- 
chase, three-fourths  of  all  Prussian  railways  have  been  made 
government  property;  and  the  same  percentage  holds  in  the 
other  German  States:  the  aim  being  eventually  to  make  them 
all  rm]wrial.  Trade  interferences  have  been  extended  in 
various  ways — by  protectionist  tariffs,  by  revival  of  the  usury 
laws,  by  restrictions  on  Sunday  labour.  Through  its  postal 
service  the  State  has  assumed  in<lustria]  functions — jiresents 
acceptances,  receives  money  on  bills  of  exchange  that  are  due, 
as  also  on  ordinary  bills,  which  it  gets  receipted;  and  until 
stopped  by  shopkeepers'  protests,  undertook  to  procure  books 
from  publishers.  Lastly  there  come  the  measures  for  ex- 
tending, directly  and  indirectly,  the  control  over  popular 


590  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

life.  On  the  one  liand  there  are  tlie  laws  under  which,  up 
to  the  middle  of  last  year,  224  socialist  societies  have  been 
closed,  ISO  periodicals  suppressed,  317  books,  &c.,  forbidden; 
and  under  which  sundry  places  have  been  reduced  to  a  partial 
state  of  siege.  On  the  other  hand  may  be  named  Prince  Bis- 
marck's scheme  for  re-establishing  guilds  (bodies  which  by 
their  regulations  coerce  their  members),  and  his  scheme  of 
State-insurance,  by  the  help  of  which  the  artizan  would,  in 
a  considerable  degree,  have  his  hands  tied.  Though  these 
measures  have  not  been  carried  in  the  forms  proposed,  yet 
the  proposal  of  them  sufficiently  shows  the  general  tendency. 
In  all  which  changes  we  see  progress  towards  a  more  inte- 
grated structure,  towards  increase  of  the  militant  part  as  com- 
pared with  the  industrial  l)art,  towards  the  replacing  of  civil 
organization  by  military  organization,  towards  the  strength- 
ening of  restraints  over  the  individual  and  regulation  of  his 
life  in  greater  detail." 

The  remaining  example  to  be  named  is  that  furnished  by 
our  own  society  since  the  revival  of  military  activity-— a  re- 
A'ival  which  has  of  late  been  so  marked  that  our  illustrated 
papers  are,  week  after  week,  occupied  with  little  else  than 
scenes  of  warfare.  Already  in  the  first  volume  of  The  Prin- 
ciples of  Sociology,  I  have  pointed  out  many  ways  in  which 
the  system  of  compulsory  cooperation  characterizing  the  mili- 
tant type,  has  been  trenching  on  the  system  of  voluntary 
cooperation  cliaracterizing  the  industrial  type;  and  since 
those  passages  appeared  (July,  18TG),  other  changes  in  the 
same  direction  have  taken  place.  AVithin  the  military  or- 
ganization itself,  we  may  note  the  increasing  assimilation  of 
the  volunteer  forces  to  the  regular  army,  now  going  to  the 
extent  of  pro])Osing  to  make  them  available  abroad,  so  that 
instead  of  defensive  action  for  which  th(>y  were  created,  they 

*  This  chapter  was  orifjinally  publishcfl  in  the  Cnntrmpnrnry  Review 
for  Sept.,  1881.  Since  that  date  a  further  movement  of  German  society 
in  the  same  general  direction  has  been  shown  by  the  pronounced  abso- 
lutism of  the  imperial  rescript  of  Jan.,  1882,  endorsing  Prince  Hismarck's 
scheme  of  State-socialism. 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE   OF  SOCIETY.  591 

can  be  used  for  offensive  action ;  and  we  may  also  note  that 
the  tendency  shown  in  the  army  during  the  past  generation 
to  sink  tlie  military  character  whenever  possible,  by  putting 
on  civilian  dresses,  is  now  checked  by  an  order  to  officers  in 
garrison  towns  to  wear  their  uniforms  when  off  duty,  as  they 
do  in  more  militant  countries.  Whether,  since  the  date 
named,  usurpations  of  civil  functions  by  military  men  (which 
had  in  1873-4  gone  to  the  extent  that  there  were  97  colonels, 
majors,  captains,  and  lieutenants  employed  from  time  to  time 
as  inspectors  of  science  and  art  classes)  have  gone  further, 
I  cannot  say;  but  there  has  been  a  manifest  extension  of 
the  militant  spirit  and  discipline  among  the  police,  who, 
wearing  helmet-shaped  hats,  beginning  to  carry  revolvers, 
and  looking  upon  themselves  as  half  soldiers,  have  come  to 
speak  of  the  people  as  "  civilians."  To  an  increasing  extent 
the  executive  has  been  over-riding  the  other  governmental 
agencies;  as  in  the  Cyprus  business,  and  as  in  the  doings  of 
the  Indian  Viceroy  under  secret  instructions  from  home. 
In  various  minor  ways  are  shown  endeavours  to  free  official- 
ism from  popular  checks;  as  in  the  desire  expressed  in  the 
House  of  Lords  that  the  hanging  of  convicts  in  prisons,  en- 
trusted entirely  to  the  authorities,  should  have  no  other  wit- 
nesses; and  as  in  the  advice  given  by  the  late  Home  Secre- 
tary (on  the  11th  May,  1878)  to  the  Derby  Town  Council, 
that  it  should  not  interfere  with  the  chief  constable  (a  mili- 
tary man)  in  his  government  of  the  force  under  him — a  step 
towar(]s  centralizing  local  police  control  in  the  Home  Office. 
Simultaneously  we  see  various  actual  or  prospective  exten- 
sions of  ])ublic  agency,  replacing  or  restraining  ])rivate 
agency.  There  is  the  "  endowment  of  research,"  which,  al- 
ready partially  cai-ried  out  by  a  government  fund,  many 
wish  to  carry  furthci-;  there  is  the  proposed  act  for  establish- 
ing a  registration  of  authorized  teachers;  there  is  the  bill 
which  provides  central  inspection  for  local  public  libraries; 
there  is  the  scheme  for  compulsory  insurance — a  scheme 
showing  us  in  an  instructive  manner  the  way  in  which  the 


502  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

rogulating-  policy  extends  itself:  compulsory  eliarity  having 
generated  improvidenee,  there  conies  compulsory  insurance 
as  a  remedy  for  the  improvidence.  Other  proclivities  towards 
institutions  belonging  to  the  militant  type,  are  seen  in  the 
increasing  demand  for  some  form  of  jirotection,  and  in  the 
lamentations  uttered  by  the  ''  society  papers  "  that  duelling 
has  gone  out.  Nay,  even  through  the  party  which  by  posi- 
tion and  function  is  antagonistic  to  militancy,  we  see  that 
militant  discipline  is  sprcatling;  for  the  caucus-system,  es- 
tablished for  the  better  organization  of  liberalism,  is  one 
which  necessarily,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  centralizes  au- 
thority and  controls  individual  action. 

Besides  seeing,  then,  that  the  traits  to  be  inferred  a  'priori 
as  characterizing  the  militant  type,  constantly  exist  in  socie- 
ties which  arc  permanently  militant  in  high  degrees,  we  also 
see  that  in  other  societies  increase  of  militant  activity  is  fol- 
lowed by  develoimient  of  such  traits. 

§  560.  In  some  places  I  have  stated,  and  in  other  places 
implied,  that  a  necessary  relation  exists  between  the  structure 
of  a  society  and  the  natures  of  its  citizens.  Here  it  will  be 
well  to  observe  in  detail  the  characters  proper  to,  and  ha- 
bitually exemplified  by,  the  members  of  a  ty])ically  militant 
society. 

Other  things  ecjual,  a  society  will  be  successful  in  war  in 
proportion  as  its  members  are  endowed  with  bodily  vigour 
and  courage.  And,  on  the  average,  anicmg  conflicting  socie- 
ties there  will  be  a  survival  and  spread  of  those  in  which  the 
physical  and  inoiital  ])nwers  called  for  in  Iwittle,  are  not  only 
most  marked  but  also  most  honoured.  Egyptian  and  Assyrian 
sculptures  and  inscriptions,  show  us  that  ])rowess  was  the 
thing  above  all  others  thought  most  worthy  of  record.  Of 
the  words  good,  just,  &c.,  as  used  by  the  ancient  (J reeks, 
Grote  remarks  that  they  ''  signify  the  man  of  birth,  wealth, 
influence  and  daring,  whose  arm  is  strong  to  destroy  or  to 
protect,  whatever  may  be  the  tiirij  <if  his  moral  sentimcntsj 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE   OF  SOCIETY.  593 

while  the  opposite  epithet,  bad,  designates  the  poor,  lowly, 
and  weak,  from  whose  dispositions,  be  they  ever  so  virtuous 
society  has  little  to  hope  or  to  fear."  In  the  identification  of 
virtue  with  bravery  among  the  Romans,  we  have  a  like  im- 
plication. During  early  turbulent  times  throughout  Europe, 
the  knightly  character,  which  was  the  honourable  character, 
primarily  included  fearlessness:  lacking  this,  good  qualities 
were  of  no  account ;  but  with  this,  sins  of  many  kinds,  great 
though  they  might  be,  were  condoned. 

If,  among  antagonist  groups  of  primitive  men,  some  tole- 
rated more  than  others  the  killing  of  their  members — if, 
while  some  always  retaliated  others  did  not;  those  which  did 
not  retaliate,  continually  aggressed  on  with  impunity,  would 
either  gradually  disappear  or  have  to  take  refuge  in  unde- 
sirable habitats.  Hence  there  is  a  survival  of  the  unforgiv- 
ing. Further,  the  lex  ialionis,  primarily  arising  between 
antagonist  groups,  becomes  the  law  within  the  group;  and 
chronic  feuds  between  component  families  and  clans,  every- 
where proceed  upon  the  general  principle  of  life  for  life. 
Under  the  militant  regime  revenge  becomes  a  virtue,  and 
failure  to  revenge  a  disgrace.  Among  the  Fijians,  who  foster 
anger  in  their  children,  it  is  not  infrequent  for  a  man  to  com- 
mit suicide  rather  than  live  under  an  insult;  and  in  other 
cases  the  dying  Fijian  bequeathes  the  duty  of  inflicting 
vengeance  to  his  children.  This  sentiment  and  the  resulting 
practices  we  trace  among  peoples  otherwise  wholly  alien,  who 
are,  or  have  been,  actively  militant.  In  the  remote  East  may 
be  instanced  the  Japanese.  They  are  taught  that  "  with  the 
slayer  of  his  father  a  man  may  not  live  under  the  same 
heaven ;  against  the  slayer  of  his  brother  a  man  nuist  never 
liave  to  go  liome  to  fetch  a  weapon;  with  the  slayer  of  his 
friend  a  man  may  not  live  in  the  same  State."  And  in  the 
West  may  be  instanced  France  during  feudal  days,  when  the 
relations  of  one  killed  or  injured  were  required  by  custom  to 
retaliate  on  any  relations  of  the  offender — even  those  living 
at  a  distance  and  knowimi'  jiothinc;  of  the  matter.      Down  to 


594  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

the  time  of  the  Abbe  Brantome,  the  spirit  was  such  that  that 
ecclesiastic,  enjoining  on  his  nephews  by  his  will  to  avenge 
any  unredressed  wrongs  done  to  him  in  his  old  age,  says  of 
himself — ''  1  may  boast,  and  I  thank  God  for  it,  that  I  never 
received  an  injury  without  being  revenged  on  the  author  of 
it."  That  where  niililancy  is  active,  revenge,  private  as  well 
as  public,  becouies  a  duty,  is  well  shown  at  the  present  time 
among  the  ^Montenegrins — a  people  who  have  been  at  war 
with  the  Turks  for  centuries.  "  Dans  le  ^Montenegro,"  says 
Boue,  "  on  dira  d'un  homme  d'une  natrie  [clan]  ayant  tue  un 
individu  d'une  autre:  Cette  natrie  nous  doit  une  tete,  et  il 
faut  que  cette  dette  soit  acquittee,  car  qui  ne  se  venge  pas  ne 
se  sancitie  pas." 

Where  activity  in  destroying  enemies  is  chronic,  destruc- 
tion will  become  a  source  of  pleasure;  where  success  in  sub- 
duing fellow-men  is  above  all  things  honoured,  there  will 
arise  delight  in  the  forcible  exercise  of  mastery;  and  with 
pride  in  spoiling  the  vanquished,  will  go  disregard  for  the 
rights  of  property  at  large.  As  it  is  incredible  that  men 
should  be  courageous  in  face  of  foes  and  cowardly  in  face  of 
friends,  so  it  is  incredible  that  the  other  feelings  fostered 
by  i)erpetual  conflicts  abroad  should  not  come  into  play  at 
home.  We  have  just  seen  that  with  tlic  pursuit  of  ven- 
geance outside  the  society,  there  goes  the  pursuit  of  vengeance 
inside  the  society;  and  whatever  other  habits  of  tliought  and 
action  constant  war  necessitates,  must  show  their  effects  on 
the  social  life  at  large.  Facts  from  various  ]ilaces  and  times 
prove  that  in  militant  comnmnities  the  claims  to  life,  liberty, 
and  property,  are  little  regarded.  The  Dahonums,  warlike 
to  the  extent  that  both  sexes  are  warriors,  and  by  whom 
slave-hunting  invasions  are,  or  were,  annually  undertaken 
"  to  furnish  funds  for  the  royal  exchequer,"  show  their 
bloodthirstiness  by  their  annual  "  customs,"  at  which  multi- 
tudinous victims  are  publicly  slaughtered  for  the  po])ular 
gratification.  The  Fijians,  again,  highly  militant  in  their 
activities  and  type  of  orgauizaliou,  who  display  their  reckless- 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE   OF   SOCIETY.  595 

ness  of  life  not  only  by  killing  their  own  people  for  cannibal 
feasts,  but  by  destroying  immense  numbers  of  their  infants 
and  by  sacrificing  victims  on  such  trivial  occasions  as  launch- 
ing a  new  canoe,  so  much  ajjplaud  ferocity  that  to  commit  a 
murder  is  a  glory.  Early  records  of  Asiatics  and  Europeans 
show  us  the  like  relation.  What  accounts  there  are  of  the 
primitive  Mongols,  who,  when  united,  massacred  western 
peoples  wholesale,  show  us  a  chronic  reign  of  violence,  both 
within  and  without  their  tribes;  while  domestic  assassina- 
tions, which  from  the  beginning  have  characterized  the  mili- 
tant Turks,  continue  to  characterize  them  down  to  our  own 
day.  In  proof  that  it  was  so  with  the  Greek  and  Latin  races 
it  suffices  to  instance  the  slaughter  of  the  two  thousand  helots 
by  the  Spartans,  whose  brutality  was  habitual,  and  the  mur- 
der of  large  numbers  of  suspected  citizens  by  jealous  Roman 
emperors,  who  also,  like  their  subjects,  manifested  their  love 
of  bloodshed  in  their  arenas.  That  where  life  is  little 

regarded  there  can  be  but  little  regard  for  liberty,  follows 
necessarily.  Those  who  do  not  hesitate  to  end  another's 
activities  by  killing  him,  will  still  less  hesitate  to  restrain  his 
activities  by  holding  him  in  bondage.  Militant  savages, 
whose  captives,  when  not  eaten,  are  enslaved,  habitually 
show  us  this  absence  of  regard  for  fellow-men's  freedom, 
which  characterizes  the  members  of  militant  societies  in  gen- 
eral. How  little,  under  the  regime  of  war,  more  or  less 
markedly  displayed  in  all  early  historic  societies,  there  was 
any  sentiment  against  depriving  men  of  their  liberties,  is 
sufficiently  shown  by  the  fact  that  even  in  the  teachings  of 
primitive  Christianity  there  was  no  express  condemnation  of 
slavery.  ISTaturally  the  like  holds  with  the  right  of 

pr()])crty.  Where  mastery  established  by  force  is  honourable, 
claims  to  possession  1)y  the  weaker  are  likely  to  be  little  re- 
spected by  the  stronger.  In  Fiji  it  is  considered  chief-like 
to  seize  a  subject's  goods;  and  theft  is  virtuous  if  undis- 
covered. Among  the  Sjiartniis  "  tlu>  ingenious  and  success- 
ful pilferer  gained  ap])lauso  with  his  booty."     In  mediaeval 


59G  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Enro}io,  with  perpetual  robberies  of  one  society  by  another 
there  went  perpetual  robberies  within  each  society.  Under 
the  Merovingians  "the  murders  and  crimes  it  ITJie  Ecclesias- 
tical History  of  the  i^ranA-'s]  relates,  have  almost  all  for  their 
object  the  possession  of  the  treasure  of  the  murdered  ])er- 
sons."  And  under  Charlemagne  plunder  by  othcials  was 
chronic:  the  moment  his  back  was  turned,  "  the  provosts  of 
the  king  appropriated  the  funds  intended  to  furnish  food  and 
clothing  for  the  artisans.'^ 

AVhere  warfare  is  habitual,  and  the  recpiired  (pialities  most 
needful  and  therefore  most  honoured,  those  whose  lives  do 
not  display  them  are  treated  with  contempt,  and  their  occupa- 
tions regarded  as  dishonourable.  In  early  stages  labour  is 
the  business  of  women  and  of  slaves — conquered  men  and 
the  descendants  of  con(piered  men;  and  trade  of  every  kind, 
carried  on  by  subject  classes,  long  continues  to  be  identified 
with  lowness  of  origin  and  nature.  In  Dahomey,  "  agricul- 
ture is  despised  because  slaves  are  employed  in  it."  "  The 
Japanese  nobles  and  placemen,  even  of  secondary  rard\,  en- 
tertain a  sovereign  contempt  for  traffic."  Of  the  ancient 
Egyptians  Wilkinson  says,  "  their  ])rejudices  against  mecha- 
nical employments, as  far  as  regarded  the  soldier,  were  ecpuilly 
strong  as  in  the  rigid  Sparta."  "  Foi-  trade  and  comnuM'ce 
the  [ancient]  Persians  were  wont  to  express  extreme  con- 
tempt," writes  Rawlinson.  That  progTCss  of  class-diiferen- 
tiation  which  accom])anied  the  conquering  wars  of  the  Ro- 
mans, was  fni'tlicrcd  liy  cstidjlislmicnt  <if  the  vnlc  tliat  it  was 
disgraceful  to  take  money  for  work,  as  also  by  tiie  law  forbid- 
ding senators  and  senators'  sons  from  engaging  in  speculation. 
Ami  liow  great  has  been  the  scorn  expressed  by  tlie  militant 
classes  for  the  trading  classes  tlii'onghout  Europe,  down  to 
quite  recent  times,  needs  no  showing. 

1'liat  tliere  may  be  willingness  to  risk  life  for  the  benefit  of 
the  society,  there  nmst  be  much  of  the  feeling  called  patriot- 
ism. Though  the  belief  that  it  is  glorious  to  die  for  one's 
country  cannot  be  regarded  as  essential,  since  mercenaries 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  597 

figlit  without  it;  yet  it  is  obvious  that  such  a  belief  conduces 
greatly  to  success  in  war;  and  that  entire  absence  of  it  is  so 
unfavourable  to  offensive  and  defensive  action  that  failure 
and  subjugation  will,  other  things  equal,  be  likely  to  result. 
Hence  the  sentiment  of  patriotism  is  habitually  established 
by  the  survival  of  societies  the  members  of  which  are  most 
characterized  by  it. 

AVith  this  has  to  be  united  the  sentiment  of  obedience.  The 
possibility  of  that  united  action  by  which,  other  things  equal, 
war  is  made  successful,  depends  on  the  readiness  of  indivi- 
duals to  subordinate  their  wills  to  the  will  of  a  commander 
or  ruler.  Loyalty  is  essential.  In  early  stages  the  manifes- 
tation of  it  is  but  temporary ;  as  among  the  Araucanians  who, 
ordinarily  showing  themselves  "  repugnant  to  all  subordina- 
tion, are  then  [when  war  is  impending]  prompt  to  obey,  and 
submissive  to  the  will  of  their  military  sovereign  "  appointed 
for  the  occasion.  And  with  development  of  the  militant  type 
this  sentiment  becomes  permanent.  Erskine  tells  us  that  the 
Fijians  are  intensely  loyal:  men  buried  alive  in  the  founda- 
tions of  a  king's  house,  considered  themselves  honoured  by 
being  so  sacrificed;  and  the  people  of  a  slave  district  "  said  it 
was  their  duty  to  become  food  and  sacrifice,  for  the  chiefs." 
So  in  Daliomey,  there  is  felt  for  the  king  "  a  mixture  of  love 
and  fear,  little  short  of  adoration."  In  ancient  Egyj^t  again, 
where  "  blind  obedicnice  was  the  oil  which  caused  the  harmo- 
nious working  of  tlic  machinery  "  of  social  life,  the  monu- 
ments on  every  side  show  with  wearisome  iteration  the  daily 
acts  of  subordinati(m — of  slaves  and  others  to  the  dead  man, 
of  captives  to  the  king,  of  the  king  to  the  gods.  Though  for 
reasons  already  pointed  out,  chronic  war  did  not  generate  in 
Sparta  a  supreme  political  head,  to  whom  there  could  be 
shown  im})licit  obedience,  yet  the  obedience  shown  to  the 
political  agency  which  grew  up  was  profound:  individual 
wills  were  in  all  things  subordinate  to  the  public  will  ex- 
pressed by  the  established  authorities.  Primitive  Rome,  too, 
though  without  a  divinely-descended  king  to  whom  submis- 


59S  *    POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

sion  could  bo  shown,  ilisplayod  great  submission  to  an  ap- 
pointed king-,  qualitied  only  by  expressions  of  oi)inion  on 
special  occasions;  and  the  principle  of  absolute  obedience, 
slightly  mitigated  in  the  relations  of  the  community  as  a 
whole  to  its  ruling  agency,  was  unmitigated  within  its  com- 
ponent groups.  That  throughout  European  history,  alike  on 
small  and  on  large  scales,  we  see  the  sentiment  of  loyalty 
dominant  where  the  militant  tyjDC  of  structure  is  pronounced, 
is  a  truth  that  will  be  admitted  without  detailed  proof. 

From  these  cons])icuous  traits  of  nature,  let  us  turn  to  cer- 
tain consequent  traits  which  are  less  conspicuous,  and  which 
have  results  of  less  manifest  kinds.  Along  with  loyalty 
naturally  goes  faith — the  two  being,  indeed,  scarcely  sepa- 
rable. Readiness  to  obey  the  commander  in  war,  implies 
belief  in  his  military  abilities;  and  readiness  to  obey  him, 
during  peace,  implies  belief  that  his  abilities  extend  to  civil 
affairs  also.  Imposing  on  men's  imaginations,  each  new  con- 
quest augments  his  authority.  There  come  more  frequent 
.and  more  decided  evidences  of  his  regulative  action  over 
men's  lives;  and  these  generate  the  idea  that  his  power  is 
boundless.  Unlimited  confidence  in  governmental  agency  is 
fostered.  Geucii-ations  brought  up  under  a  system  which 
controls  all  affairs,  private  and  public,  tacitly  assume  that 
affairs  can  only  thus  be  controlled.  Those  who  have  experi- 
ence of  no  other  regime  are  unable  to  imagine  any  other 
regime.  In  such  societies  as  that  of  ancient  Peru,  for  exam- 
pie,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  regimental  rule  was  universal, 
there  were  no  materials  for  framing  the  thought  of  an  indus- 
trial life  spontaneously  carried  on  and  spontaneously  regulated. 

By  implication  there  results  repression  of  individual  initia- 
tive, and  conseciuent  lack  of  priv'ate  enter])rise.  In  propor- 
tion as  an  army  becomes  oraMni/e(l,  it  is  reduced  to  a  state  in 
which  tlic  iiidcpcndcnt  action  of  its  mendxTs  is  forbidden. 
And  in  proportion  as  regimentation  pervades  the  society  at 
large,  each  member  of  it,  directed  or  restrained  at  every  turn, 
has  little  or  no  power  of  conducting  his  busindss  otherwise 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OP  SOCIE'TY/  599 

than  by  established  routine.  Slaves  can  do  only  what  they 
are  told  by  their  masters;  their  masters  cannot  do  anything 
that  is  unusual  without  official  permission;  and  no  permis- 
sion is  to  be  obtained  from  the  local  authority  until  superior 
authorities  through  their  ascending  grades  have  been  con- 
sulted. Hence  the  mental  state  generated  is  that  of  passive 
acceptance  and  expectancy.  Where  the  militant  type  is  fully 
developed,  everything  must  be  done  by  public  agencies ;  not 
only  for  the  reason  that  these  occupy  all  spheres,  but  for  the 
further  reason  that  did  they  not  occupy  them,  there  would 
arise  no  other  agencies :  the  prompting  ideas  and  sentiments 
having  been  obliterated. 

There  must  be  added  a  concomitant  influence  on  the  intel- 
lectual nature,  wdiich  cooperates  with  the  moral  influences 
just  named.  Personal  causation  is  alone  recognized,  and  the 
conception  of  impersonal  causation  is  prevented  from  devel- 
oping. The  primitive  man  has  no  idea  of  cause  in  the  mod- 
ern sense.  The  only  agents  included  in  his  theory  of  things 
are  li\dng  persons  and  the  ghosts  of  dead  persons.  All  un- 
usual occurrences,  together  with  those  usual  ones  liable  to 
variation,  he  ascribes  to  supernatural  beings.  And  this  sys- 
tem of  interpretation  survives  through  early  stages  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  as  we  see,  for  example,  among  the  Homeric  Greeks,  by 
whom  wounds,  deaths,  and  escapes  in  battle,  were  ascribed  to 
the  enmity  or  the  aid  of  the  gods,  and  by  whom  good  and  bad 
acts  were  held  to  be  divinely  prompted.  Continuance  and  de- 
velopment of  militant  forms  and  activities  maintain -this  way 
of  thinking.  In  the  first  place,  it  indirectly  hinders  the  dis- 
covery of  causal  relations.  The  sciences  grow  out  of  the  arts 
— begin  as  generalizations  of  truths  which  practice  of  the  arts 
makes  manifest.  In  proportion  as  processes  of  production 
multiply  in  their  kinds  and  increase  in  their  complexities, 
more  numerous  unifonuities  come  to  be  recognized ;  and  the 
idsas  of  necessary  relation  and  physical  cause  arise  and  de- 
velop. Consequently,  by  discouraging  industrial  progress 
militancy  checks  the  re|)lacing  of  ideas  of  personal  agency  by 


600  '    POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

ideas  of  impersonal  agency.  In  the  second  place,  it  does  the 
like  by  direct  repression  of  intellectual  culture.  Naturally 
a  life  occupied  in  acquiring  knowledge,  like  a  life  occupied 
in  industry,  is  regarded  with  contempt  by  a  people  devoted  to 
arms.  The  Spartans  clearly  exemplitied  this  relation  in 
ancient  times;  and  it  was  again  cxcmpliiied  during  feudal 
ages  in  Europe,  when  learning  was  scorned  as  proper  only  for 
clerks  and  the  children  of  mean  people.  And  obviously,  in 
proportion  as  warlike  activities  are  antagonistic  to  study  and 
the  spread  of  knowledge,  they  further  retard  that  emancipa- 
tion from  primitive  ideas  which  ends  in  recognition  of  natural 
uniformities.  In  the  third  })lace,  and  chiefly,  the  effect  in 
question  is  produced  by  the  conspicuous  and  perpetual  expe- 
rience of  personal  agency  which  the  militant  regime  yields. 
In  the  army,  from  the  commander-in-chief  down  to  the  pri- 
vate undergoing  drill,  every  movement  is  directed  by  a  supe- 
rior; and  throughout  the  society,  in  proportion  as  its  regi- 
mentation is  elaborate,  things  are  hourly  seen  to  go  thus  or 
thus  according  to  the  regulating  wills  of  the  ruler  and  his 
subordinates.  In  the  interpretation  of  social  affairs,  personal 
causation  is  consequently  alone  recognized.  History  comes 
to  be  made  up  of  the  doings  of  remarkable  men;  and  it  is 
tacitly  assumed  that  societies  have  been  formed  by  them. 
Wholly  foreign  to  the  liabit  of  mind  as  is  the  thought  of  im- 
personal causation,  the  course  of  social  evolution  is  unper- 
ceived.  The  natural  genesis  of  social  structures  and  func- 
tions is  an  utterly  alien  conception,  and  a])])cars  absurd  when 
alleged.  The  notion  of  a  self-regulating  social  process  is 
unintelligible.  So  that  militancy  moulds  the  citizen  into  a 
form  not  only  morally  adapted  but  intellectually  adapted — a 
form  which  cannot  thiid<  away  from  the  entailed  system. 

§  501.  In  three  ways,  then,  we  are  shown  the  character  of 
the  militant  type  of  social  organization.  Observe  the  con- 
gruities  which  comparison  of  results  discloses. 

Certain  conditions,  manifest  a  priori,  have  to  be  fulfilled 


THE  MILITANT  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  601 

by  a  society  fitted  for  preserving  itself  in  presence  of  anta- 
gonist societies.  To  be  in  the  highest  degree  efficient,  the 
corporate  action  needed  for  preserving  the  corporate  hfe  must 
be  joined  in  by  every  one.  Other  things  equal,  the  fighting- 
power  will  be  greatest  where  those  who  cannot  fight,  labour 
exclusively  to  support  and  help  those  who  can:  an  evident 
implication  being  that  the  working  part  shall  be  no  larger 
than  is  required  for  these  ends.  The  efforts  of  all  being- 
utilized  directly  or  indirectly  for  war,  will  be  most  effectual 
when  they  are  most  combined ;  and,  besides  union  among  the 
combatants,  there  must  be  such  union  of  the  non-combatants 
with  them  as  renders  the  aid  of  these  fully  and  promptly 
available.  To  satisfy  these  requirements,  the  life,  the  actions, 
and  the  possessions,  of  each  individual  must  be  held  at  the 
service  of  the  society.  This  universal  service,  this  combina- 
tion, and  this  merging-  of  individual  claims,  pre-suppose  a 
despotic  controlling  agency.  That  the  will  of  the  soldier- 
chief  may  be  operative  when  the  aggregate  is  large,  there 
must  be  sub-centres  and  sub-sub-centres  in  descending  grades, 
through  whom  orders  may  be  conveyed  and  enforced,  both 
throughout  the  combatant  part  and  the  non-combatant  part. 
As  the  commander  tells  the  soldier  both  what  he  shall  not  do 
and  what  he  shall  do;  so,  throughout  the  militant  communi- 
ty at  large,  the  rule  is  both  negatively  regulative  and  posi- 
tively regulative:  it  not  only  restrains,  but  it  directs:  the 
citizen  as  well  as  the  soldier  lives  under  a  system  of  com- 
pulsory cooperation.  Development  of  the  militant  type  in- 
volves increasing  rigidity,  since  the  cohesion,  the  combina- 
tion, the  subordination,  and  the  regulation,  to  which  the  units 
of  a  society  are  subjected  by  it,  inevitably  decrease  their 
ability  to  change  their  social  positions,  their  oecupatjons,  their 
localities. 

On  inspecting  sundry  societies,  past  and  present,  large  and 
small,  which  are,  or  have  been,  characterized  in  high  degrees 
by  militancy,  we  are  shown,  a  posteriori,  that  amid  the  dif- 
ferences due  to  race,  to  circumstances,  and  to  degrees  of 


602  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

development,  there  are  fiiiuljiinontal  siinilaritios  of  the  kinds 
above  inferred  a  priori.  Modern  Dahomey  and  Russia,  as 
well  as  ancient  Peru,  Egypt,  and  Sparta,  exemplify  that 
owning  of  the  individual  by  the  State  in  life,  liberty,  and 
goods,  which  is  proper  to  a*  social  system  adapted  for  war. 
And  that  with  changes  further  fitting  a  society  for  warlike 
activities,  there  spread  throughout  it  an  officialism,  a  dicta- 
tion, and  a  superintendence,  akin  to  those  under  which  sol- 
diers live,  we  are  shown  by  imperial  Rome,  by  imperial  Ger- 
many, and  by  England  since  its  late  aggressive  activities. 

Lastly  comes  the  evidence  furnished  by  the  adapted  cha- 
racters of  the  men  who  compose  milita:nt  societies.  Making 
anccess  in  wa;-  the  highest  glory,  they  are  led  to  identify  good- 
ness with  bravery  and  strength.  Revenge  becomes  a  sacred 
duty  with  them;  and  acting  at  home  on  the  law  of  retaliation 
which  they  act  on  abroad,  they  similarly,  at  home  as  abroad, 
are  ready  to  sacrifice  others  to  self:  their  sympathies,  con- 
tinually deadened  during  war,  cannot  be  active  during  peace. 
They  must  have  a  patriotism  which  regards  the  triumph  of 
their  society  as  the  supreme  end  of  action;  they  must  pos- 
sess the  loyalty  whence  flows  obedience  to  authority;  and 
that  they  may  be  obedient  they  must  have  abundant  faith. 
With  faith  in  authority  and  consequent  readiness  to  be  di- 
rected, iiat Ill-ally  goes  relatively  little  power  of  initiatiim. 
'idle  !ial)it  of  seeing  everything  officially  controlled  fosters 
the  belief  that  official  control  is  everywhere  needful;  while  a 
course  of  life  which  makes  jxTsonal  causation  laiiiiliar  and 
negatives  experience  of  impersonal  causation,  pro(hices  an 
inability  to  conceive  of  any  social  processes  as  carried  on  under 
eelf-regulating  arrangements.  And  these  traits  of  indivi(hial 
nature,  r^eedful  concomitants  as  we  see  of  the  militant  type, 
are  those  which  we  observe  in  the  members  of  actual  militant 
societies. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    INDUSTRIAL    TYPE    OF    SOCIETY. 

§  562.  Having  nearly  alwaj'S  to  defend  tliemselres  against 
external  enemies,  while  they  have  to  carry  on  internally  the 
processes  of  sustentation,  societies,  as  remarked  in  the  last 
chapter,  habitually  present  us  with  mixtures  of  tne  structures 
adapted  to  these  diverse  ends.  Disentanglement  is  not  easy. 
According  as  either  structure  predominates  it  ramifies  through 
the  other:  instance  the  fact  that  where  the  militant  type  is 
much  developed,  the  worker,  ordinarily  a  slave,  is  no  more 
free  than  the  soldier;  while,  where  the  industrial  type  is 
much  developed,  the  soldier,  volunteering  on  specified  terms, 
acquires  in  so  far  the  position  of  a  free  worker.  In  the  one 
case  the  system  of  status,  proper  to  the  fighting  part,  per- 
vades the  Avorking  part ;  while  in  the  other  the  system  of  con- 
tract, proper  to  the  working  part,  affects  the  fighting  part. 
Especially  does  the  organization  adapted  for  war  obscure 
that  adapted  for  industry.  While,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
militant  type  as  theoretically  constructed,  is  so  far  displayed 
in  many  societies  as  to  leave  no  doubt  about  its  essential  na- 
ture, the  industrial  type  has  its  traits  so  hidden  by  those  of  the 
still-dominant  militant  type,  that  its  nature  is  nowhere  more 
than  very  partially  exemplified.  Saying  thus  much  to  ex- 
elude  expectations  which  cannot  be  fulfilled,  it  will  be  well 
also  to  exclude  certain  probable  misconceptions. 

In  the  first  place,  industrialism  must  not  be  confounded 
with  industriousness.  Though  the  members  of  an  indus- 
trially-organized societv  are  habituallv  industrious,  and  are. 

C03 


604  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

indeed,  when  the  society  is  a  developed  one,  obliged  to  be  so; 
jet  it  must  not  be  assumed  that  tlie  industrially-organized 
society  is  one  in  which,  of  necessity,  much  work  is  done. 
Where  the  society  is  small,  and  its  habitat  so  favourable  that 
life  may  be  comfortably  maintained  with  but  little  exertion, 
the  social  relations  which  characterize  the  industrial  type  may 
co-oxist  with  but  very  moderate  productive  activities.  It  is 
not  the  diligence  of  its  members  wdiich  constitutes  the  so- 
ciety an  industrial  one  in  the  sense  here  intended,  but  the 
form  of  cooperation  under  which  their  labours,  small  or  great 
in  amount,  arc  carric'(l  on.  This  distinction  will  be  best  un- 
derstood on  observing  tluit,  conversely,  there  may  be,  and 
often  is,  great  industry  in  societies  framed  on  the  militant 
type.  In  ancient  Egypt  there  was  an  immense  labouring 
population  and  a  large  supply  of  connnodities,  numerous  in 
their  kinds,  produced  by  it.  Still  more  did  ancient  Peru 
exhibit  a  vast  community  purely  militant  in  its  structure, 
the  members  of  which  worked  unceasingly.  AVe  are  here 
concerned,  then,  not  with  the  quantity  of  labour  but  with  the 
mode  of  organization  of  the  labourers.  A  regiment  of  sol- 
diers can  be  set  to  construct  earth-works ;  another  to  cut  down 
wood;  another  to  bring  in  water;  but  they  are  not  thereby 
reduced  for  the  time  being  to  an  industrial  society.  The 
united  individuals  do  these  several  things  under  command; 
and  having  no  ])rivate  claims  to  the  products,  are,  though  in- 
dustrially occupied,  not  industrially  organized.  And  the 
same  liolds  throughout  tlic  militant  society  as  a  whole,  in  pro- 
.])ortion  as  tlic  regimentation  of  it  approaches  coni])leteness. 

The  industrial  type  of  society,  proi)erly  so  called,  nuist 
also  be  distinguished  from  a  type  very  likely  to  be  con- 
founded with  it — the  type,  namely,  in  which  the  coni])onent 
individuals,  while  exclusively  occupied  in  production  and 
distribution,  are  under  a  regulation  such  as  that  advocated 
by  socialists  and  communists.  For  this,  too,  involves  in 
another  form  the  principle  of  compulsory  cooperation. 
Directly  or  indirectly,  individuals  arc  to  be  prevented  from 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.  605 

severally  and  independently  occupying  themselves  as  they 
please;  are  to  be  prevented  from  competing  with  one  another 
in  supplying  goods  for  money;  are  to  be  prevented  from 
hiring  themselves  out  on  such  terms  as  they  think  fit.  There 
can  be  no  artificial  system  for  regulating  labour  which  does 
not  interfere  with  the  natural  system.  To  such  extent  as 
men  are  debarred  from  making  whatever  engagements  they 
like,  they  are  to  that  extent  working  under  dictation.  Xo 
matter  in  what  way  the  controlling  agency  is  constituted,  it 
stands  towards  those  controlled  in  the  same  relation  as  does 
the  controlling  agency  of  a  militant  society.  And  how  truly 
the  regime  which  those  who  declaim  against  competition 
would  establish,  is  thus  characterized,  we  see  both  in  the  fact 
that  communistic  forms  of  organization  existed  in  early  socie- 
ties which  were  predominantly  warlike,  and  in  the  fact  that  at 
the  present  time  communistic  projects  chiefly  originate  among, 
and  are  most  favoured  by,  the  more  warlike  societies. 

A  further  preliminary  explanation  may  be  needful.  The 
structures  proper  to  the  industrial  type  of  society  must  not 
be  looked  for  in  distinct  forms  when  they  first  appear.  Con- 
trariwise, we  must  expect  them  to  begin  in  vague  unsettled 
forms.  Arising,  as  they  do,  by  modification  of  pre-existing 
structures,  they  are  necessarily  long  in  losing  all  trace  of 
these.  For  examj^le,  transition  from  the  state  in  which  the 
labourer,  owned  like  a  beast,  is  maintained  that  he  may  work 
exclusively  for  his  master's  benefit,  to  the  condition  in  which 
he  is  completely  detached  from  master,  soil,  and  locality,  and 
free  to  work  anywhere  and  for  anyone,  is  through  gi'adations. 
Again,  the  change  from  the  arrangement  proper  to  militancy, 
under  which  subject-persons  receive,  in  addition  to  main- 
tenance, occasional  presents,  to  the  arrangement  under  which, 
in  place  of  both,  they  received  fixed  wages,  or  salaries,  or 
fees,  goes  on  slowly  and  unobtrusively.  Once  more  it  is  ob- 
servable that  the  process  of  exchange,  originally  indefinite, 
has  become  definite  only  where  industrialism  is  considerably 
developed.      Barter  began,  not  with  a  distinct  intention  of 


606  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

• 

giving  one  thing  for  another  tliiiiii'  ocjuivakMit  in  vahio,  hut  it 
began  by  making  a  present  and  receiving  a  present  in  retnrn; 
and  even  now  in  the  Eaat  tliere  continue  traces  of  this  primi- 
tive transaction.  In  Cairo  the  purchase  of  articles  from  a 
shopkeeper  is  preceded  by  his  offer  of  coffee  and  cigarettes; 
and  during  the  negotiation  which  ends  in  the  engagement  of 
a  dakabeah,  the  dragoman  brings  gifts  and  expects  to  receive 
them.  Add  to  which  that  there  exists  under  such  conditions 
none  of  that  definite  equivalence  which  characterizes  ex- 
change among  ourselves :  prices  are  not  fixed,  bui  vary  wide- 
ly with  every  fresh  transaction.  So  that  throughout  our 
interpretations  we  must  keep  in  view  the  truth,  that  the 
structures  and  functions  proper  to  the  industrial  type  dis- 
tinguish themselves  but  gradually  from  those  proper  to  the 
militant  type. 

Having  thus  prepared  the  way,  let  us  now  consider  what 
are,  a  priori,  the  traits  of  that  social  organization  which, 
entirely  unfitted  for  carrying  on  defence  against  external 
enemies,  is  exclusivel}'  fitted  for  maintaining  the  life  of  the 
society  by  subser\dng  the  lives  of  its  units.  As  before  in 
treating  of  the  militant  type,  so  here  in  treating  of  the  indus- 
trial type,  we  will  consider  first  its  ideal  form. 

§  5G3.  While  corporate  action  is  the  primary  requirement 
in  a  society  which  has  to  preserA'e  itself  in  presence  of  hostile 
societies,  conversely,  in  the  absence  of  hostile  societies,  cor- 
porate action  is  no  longer  the  primary  requirement. 

The  continued  existence  of  a  society  implies,  first,  that  it 
shall  not  be  destroyed  Ixxlily  by  foreign  foes,  and  implies, 
second,  that  it  shall  not  be  destroyed  in  detail  by  failure  of  its 
members  to  sup])ort  and  propagate  themselves.  Tf  danger 
of  destruction  from  the  first  cause  ceases,  there  remains  only 
danger  of  destruction  from  the  second  cause.  Sustentation 
of  the  society  will  now  be  achieved  by  the  self-sustentation 
and  multiplication  of  its  units.  If  his  own  welfare  and  the 
welfare  of  his  offsj)ring  is  fully  achieved  by  each,  the  welfare 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  607 

of  tlie  society  is  by  implication  achieved.  Comparatively 
little  corporate  activity  is  now  required.  Each  man  may 
maintain  himself  by  labour,  may  exchange  his  products  for 
the  products  of  others,  may  give  aid  and  receive  payment, 
may  enter  into  this  or  that  combination  for  carrying  on  an 
undertaking,  small  or  great,  without  the  direction  of  the 
society  as  a  whole.  The  remaining  end  to  be  achieved  b^y" 
public  action  is  to  keep  private  actions  within  due  bounds; 
and  the  amount  of  public  action  needed  for  this  becomes 
small  in  proportion  as  private  actions  become  duly  self- 
bounded. 

So  that  w'hereas  in  the  militant  type  the  demand  for  cor- 
porate action  is  intrinsic,  such  demand  for  corporate  action 
as  continues  in  the  industrial  type  is  mainly  extrinsic — is 
called  for  by  those  aggressive  traits  of  human  nature  which 
chronic  warfare  has  fostered,  and  may  gradually  diminish  as, 
under  enduring  peaceful  life,  these  decrease. 

§  564.  In  a  society  organized  for  militant  action,  the  indi- 
viduality of  each  member  has  to  be  so  subordinated  in  life, 
liberty,  and  property,  that  he  is  largely,  or  completely,  owned 
by  the  State;  but  in  a  society  industrially  organized,  no  such 
subordination  of  the  individual  is  called  for.  There  remain 
no  occasions  on  which  he  is  required  to  risk  his  life  while 
destroying  the  lives  of  others;  he  is  not  forced  to  leave  his 
occupation  and  submit  to  a  commanding  officer ;  and  it  ceases 
to  be  needful  that  he  should  surrender  for  puldic  ]mrposes 
whatever  property  is  demanded  of  him. 

Under  the  industrial  regime  the  citizen's  individuality, 
instead  of  being  sacrificed  by  the  society,  has  to  be  defended 
by  the  society.  Defence  of  his  individuality  becomes  the 
society's  essential  duty.  .  That  after  external  protection  is  no 
longer  called  for,  internal  protection  must  become  the  car- 
dinal function  of  the  State,  and  that  effectual  discharge  of 
this  function  must  be  a  predominant  trait  of  the  industrial 
type,  may  bo  readily  shown. 


60S  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

For  it  is  clear  that,  other  things  eiiiial,  a  society  in  which 
life,  liberty,  and  pro})erty,  are  secure,  and  all  interests  justly 
regarded,  must  })rosper  mure  than  one  in  which  they  are  not; 
and,  consequently,  among  coni})eting  industrial  societies, 
there  must  be  a  gradual  rejihicing  of  those  in  which  })ersonal 
rights  are  imperfectly  nuiintained,  by  those  in  which  they  are 
•perfectly  maintained.  So  that  by  survival  of  the  fittest  must 
be  produced  a  social  type  in  which  individual  claims,  con- 
sidered as  sacred,  are  trenched  on  by  the  State  no  further 
than  is  requisite  to  pay  the  cost  of  maintaining  them,  or 
rather,  of  arbitrating  among  them.  For  the  aggressiveness 
of  nature  fostered  by  militancy  having  died  out,  the  corporate 
function  becomes  that  of  deciding  between  those  conflicting 
claims,  the  equitable  adjustment  of  which  is  not  obvious  to 
the  persons  concerned. 

§  565.  With  the  absence  of  need  for  that  corporate  action 
by  which  the  etlorts  of  the  whole  society  may  be  utilized  for 
war,  there  goes  the  absence  of  need  for  a  desjwtic  controlling 
agency. 

Xot  only  is  such  an  agency  unnecessary,  but  it  cannot  ex- 
ist. For  since,  as  we  s(h%  it  is  an  essential  re(|uirement  of 
the  industrial  type,  that  the  individuality  of  each  man  sliall 
have  the  fullest  i)lay  compatible  with  the  lik(!  play  of  other 
men's  individualities,  despotic  control,  showing  itself  as  it 
nmst  by  otherwise  restricting  men's  individualities,  is  neces- 
sarily e.\chi(h'(K  Indeed,  by  his  mere  ])resence  an  autocratic 
ruler  is  an  aggressor  on  citizens.  Actually  or  jiotentially 
exercising  power  not  gixcii  by  them,  he  in  so  far  restrains 
their  wills  m(jre  than  they  would  l)e  restrained  by  mutual 
limitation  merely. 

§  560.  Such  control  as  is  i'e(|nii'(Ml  under  the  indiisti-ial 
type,  can  be  exercised  only  by  an  aj)pointe(l  agency  for  ascer- 
taining and  executing  the  average  will;  and  a  representa- 
tive agency  is  the  one  best  liftcil  fur  doing  this. 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  609 

Unless  the  activities  of  all  are  homogeneous  in  kind,  which 
they  cannot  be  in  a  developed  society  with  its  elaborate  divi- 
sion of  labour,  there  arises  a  need  for  conciliation  of  diver- 
gent interests;  and  to  the  end  of  insuring  an  equitable  ad- 
justment, each  interest  must  be  enabled  duly  to  express 
itself.  It  is,  indeed,  supposable  that  the  appointed  agency 
should  be  a  single  individuah  But  no  such  single  individual 
could  arbitrate  justly  among  numerous  classes  variously  occu- 
pied, witliout  hearing  evidence:  each  would  have  to  send 
representatives  setting  forth  its  chiims.  Hence  the  choice 
would  lie  between  two  systems,  under  one  of  which  the  rep- 
resentatives privately  and  separately  stated  their  cases  to  an 
arbitrator  on  whose  single  judginent  decisions  depended; 
and  under  the  other  of  which  these  representatives  stated 
their  cases  in  one  another's  presence,  while  judgments  were 
openly  determined  by  the  general  consensus.  Without  in- 
sisting on  the  fact  that  a  fair  balancing  of  class-interests  is 
more  likely  to  be  effected  by  this  last  form  of  representation 
than  by  the  first,  it  is  sufiicient  to  remark  that  it  is  more  con- 
gruous with  the  nature  of  the  industrial  type;  since  men's 
individualities  are  in  the  smallest  degree  trenched  upon. 
Citizens  who,  appointing  a  single  ruler  for  a  prescribed  time, 
may  have  a  majority  of  their  wills  traversed  by  his  during 
this  tiuie,  surrender  their  iudividualities  in  a  greater  degree 
than  do  those  who,  from  their  local  groups,  depute  a  number 
of  rulers;  since  these,  s})eaking  and  acting  under  pnblie  in- 
spection and  mutually  restrained,  habitually  conform  their 
decisions  to  the  wills  of  the  majority. 

§  5G7.  The  corporate  life  of  the  society  being  no  longer  in 
danger,  and  the  i-eniaining  business  of  government  being 
that  of  maintaining  the  conditions  re(|uisite  for  the  highest 
individual  life,  there  comes  the  cpiestion — What  are  these 
conditions? 

Already  they  have  been  implied  as  conqtvchended  under 
the  adniinist ration  (»f  justice;   but  so  vaguely  i<  the  meaning 


GIO  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

of  this  phrase  coiiiinonlv  conceived,  that  a  more  specific  state- 
ment mnst  be  matle.  Justice  then,  as  here  to  be  untk^rstood, 
means  preservation  of  the  normal  connexions  between  acts 
and  results — the  obtainment  by  each  of  as  much  beneht  as 
his  efforts  are  equivalent  to — no  more  and  no  less.  Living 
and  working  within  the  restraints  imposed  by  one  another's 
presence,  justice  requires  that  individuals  shall  severally  take 
the  consequences  of  their  conduct,  neither  increased  nor  de- 
creased. The  superior  shall  have  the  good  of  his  superiority ; 
and  the  inferior  the  evil  of  his  inferiority.  A  veto  is  there- 
fore put  on  all  public  action  wdiich  abstracts  from  some  men 
part  of  the  advantages  they  have  earned,  and  awards  to  other 
men  advantages  they  have  not  earned. 

That  from  the  developed  industrial  type  of  society  there 
are  excluded  all  forms  of  communistic  distribution,  the  in- 
evitable trait  of  which  is  that  they  tend  to  equalize  the  lives 
of  good  and  bad,  idle  and  diligent,  is  readily  proved.  For 
when,  the  struggle  for  existence  between  societies  by  war 
having  ceased,  there  remains  only  the  industrial  struggle  for 
existence,  the  final  survival  and  spread  must  be  on  the  part  of 
those  societies  which  produce  the  largest  nuihber  of  the  best 
individuals — individuals  best  adapted  for  life  in  the  indus- 
trial state.  Suppose  two  societies,  otherwise  equal,  in  one  of 
which  the  superior  are  allowed  to  retain,  for  their  own  benefit 
and  the  benefit  of  their  offspring,  the  entire  proceeds  of  their 
labour;  but  in  the  other  of  which  the  superior  have  taken 
from  them  part  of  these  proceeds  for  the  benefit  of  the  inferior 
and  their  offspring.  Evidently  the  superior  will  thrive  and 
multiply  more  in  the  first  than  in  the  second.  A  greater  num- 
ber of  the  best  children  will  be  reared  in  the  first;  and  eventu- 
ally it  will  outgrow  the  second.  It  must  not  be  inferred  that 
private  and  voluntary  aid  to  the  inferior  is  negatived,  but  only 
public  and  enforced  aid.  Whatever  effects  the  sympathies 
of  the  better  for  tlie  worse  s]X)ntaneously  produce,  cannot,  of 
course,  be  interfered  with;  and  will,  on  tlie  whole,  be  bene- 
ficial.     For  while,  on  the  average,  the  better  will  not  carry 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  611 

such  efforts  so  far  as  to  impede  tlieir  own  multiplication,  tliey 
will  carry  tliem  far  enough  to  mitigate  the  ill-fortunes  of  the 
worse  without  helping  them  to  multiply. 

§508.  Otherwise  regarded,  this  system  under  which  the 
efforts  of  each  bring  neither  more  nor  less  than  their  natural 
returns,  is  the  system  of  contract. 

We  have  seen  that  the  regime  of  status  is  in  all  ways 
proper  to  the  militant  type.  It  is  the  concomitant  of  that 
graduated  subordination  by  which  the  combined  action  of  a 
fighting  body  is  achieved,  and  which  must  pervade  the  fight- 
ing society  at  large  to  insure  its  corporate  action.  Under  this 
regime,  the  relation  between  labour  and  produce  is  traversed 
by  authority.  As  in  the  army,  the  food,  clothing,  &c.,  re- 
ceived by  each  soldier  are  not  direct  returns  for  work  done, 
but  are  arbitrarily  apportioned,  while  duties  are  arbitrarily 
enforced ;  so  throughout  the  rest  of  the  militant  society,  the 
superior  dictates  the  labour  and  assigns  such  share  of  the  re- 
turns as  he  pleases.  But  as,  with  declining  militancy  and 
growing  industrialism,  the  power  and  range  of  authority  de- 
crease while  uncontrolled  action  increases,  the  relation  of  con- 
tract becomes  general ;  and  in  the  fully-developed  industrial 
type  it  becomes  universal. 

Under  this  universal  relation  of  contract  w^hen  equitably 
administered,  there  arises  that  adjustment  of  benefit  to  effort 
which  the  arrangements  of  the  industrial  society  have  to 
achieve.  If  each  as  producer,  distributor,  manager,  adviser, 
teacher,  or  aider  of  other  kind,  obtains  from  his  fellows  such 
payment  for  his  service  as  its  value,  determined  by  the  de- 
mand, warrants;  tlien  there  results  that  correct  apportion- 
ing of  reward  to  merit  which  ensures  the  prosperity  of  the 
superior. 

§  569.  Again  changing  the  point  of  view,  we  see  that 
wdiereas  public  control  in  the  militant  type  is  both  positively 
regulative  and  negativelv  regulative,  in  the  industrial  tvpe  it 

i)8 


(jl2  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

is  negatively  regulative  only.  To  the  slave,  to  the  soKller,  or 
to  other  member  of  a  eommunity  organized  for  war,  authority 
says — "  Thou  shalt  do  this;  thou  shalt  not  do  that."  But  to 
the  member  of  the  industrial  eommunity,  authority  gives 
only  one  of  these  orders — "  Thou  salt  not  do  that." 

For  people  who,  earrying  on  their  private  transactions  by 
voluntary  cooperation,  also  voluntarily  eoo})erate  to  form  and 
support  a  governmental  agency,  are,  by  implication,  people 
who  authorize  it  to  impose  on  their  respective  activities,  only 
those  restraints  which  they  are  all  interested  in  maintain- 
ing— the  restraints  which  check  aggressions.  Omitting 
criminals  (who  under  the  assumed  conditions  must  be  very 
few,  if  not  a  vanishing  quantity),  each  citizen  will  wish  to  pre- 
serve uninvaded  his  sphere  of  action,  while  not  invading 
others'  spheres,  and  to  retain  whatever  benefits  are  achieved 
within  it.  The  very  motive  which  prompts  all  to  unite  in 
upholding  a  public  protector  of  their  individualities,  will  also 
prompt  them  to  unite  in  preventing  any  interference  with 
their  individualities  beyond  that  required  for  this  end. 

Jlence  it  follows  that  while,  in  the  militant  type,  regimen- 
tation in  the  army  is  paralleled  by  centralized  administra- 
tion throughout  the  society  at  large;  in  the  industrial  type, 
administration,  becoming  decentralized,  is  at  tlie  same  time 
narrowed  in  its  range.  Nearly  all  j)ublic  organizations  save 
that  for  administering  justice,  necessarily  disappear;  since 
they  have  tlie  common  character  that  they  either  aggress  on 
the  citizen  by  dictating  his  actions,  or  by  taking  from  him 
more  property  than  is  needful  for  protecting  him,  or  by  both. 
Those  who  are  forced  t<j  send  their  child i-(mi  to  this  or  that 
school,  those  who  have,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  help  in  sup- 
porting a  State  priesthood,  those  from  whom  rates  are  de- 
manded that  parish  officers  may  administer  public  charity, 
those  who  are  taxed  to  provide  gratis  reading  for  people  who 
will  not  save  money  for  library  subscriptions,  those  whose 
InisinesHcs  are  carried  on  under  regulation  by  inspectors,  those 
who  have  to  pay  the  costs  of  State  science-and-art-teaching, 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  013 

State  emigration,  &c.,  all  have  tkeir  individualities  trenched 
upon,  either  by  compelling  them  to  do  what  they  would  not 
spontaneously  do,  or  by  taking  away  money  which  else  would 
have  furthered  their  private  ends.  Coercive  arrangements 
of  such  lands,  consistent  with  the  militant  type,  are  incon- 
sistent with  the  industrial  type. 

§  570.  With  the  relatively  narrow  range  of  public  organi- 
zations, there  goes,  in  the  industrial  type,  a  relatively  wide 
range  of  private  organizations.  The  spheres  left  vacant  by 
the  one  are  filled  bj"  the  other. 

Several  influences  conspire  to  prodtice  this  trait.  Those 
motives  which,  in  the  absence  of  that  subordination  necessi- 
tated by  war,  make  citizens  unite  in  asserting  their  indi- 
vidtialities  subject  only  to  mutual  limitations,  are  motives 
which  make  thein  unite  in  resisting  any  interference  with 
their  freedom  to  form  such  private  combinations  as  do  not 
involve  aggression.  Moreover,  beginning  with  exchanges  of 
goods  and  services  tinder  agTcements  between  individuals, 
the  principle  of  voluntary  cooperation  is  simply  carried  out  in 
a  larger  way  by  individuals  who,  incorporating  themselves, 
contract  with  one  another  for  jointly  pursuing  this  or  that 
business  or  function.  And  yet  again,  there  is  entire  congru- 
ity  between  the  representative- constittitions  of  such  private 
combinations,  and. that  representative  constitution  of  the  pub- 
lic combination  which  we  see  is  proper  to  the  industrial  ty])e. 
The  same  law  of  organization  pervades  the  society  in  general 
and  in  detail.  So  that  an  inevitable  trait  of  the  industrial 
type  is  the  multiplicity  and  heterogeneity  of  associations, 
political,  religious,  commercial,  professional,  philanthropic, 
and  social,  of  all  sizes. 

§  571.  Two  indirectly  resulting  traits  of  the  industrial 
type  must  be  added.      The  first  is  its  relative  jdasticity. 

So  long  as  corporate  action  ie  necessitated  for  national  self- 
pn^servation — so  long  as,  to  effect  combined  defence  or  of- 


CU  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

fence, there ismaintaiiu'd  thai  uraduated  subordination wliieli 
ties  all  inferiors  to  superiors,  as  the  soldier  is  tied  to  his  offi- 
cer— so  long  as  there  is  maintained  the  relation  of  status, 
which  tends  to  fix  men  in  the  positions  thej  are  severally 
born  to;  there  is  insured  a  comparative  rigidity  of  social  or- 
ganization. But  with  the  cessation  of  those  needs  that  in- 
itiate and  preserve  the  militant  type  of  structure,  and  with 
the  establishment  of  contract  as  the  universal  relation  under 
which  efforts  are  combined  for  mutual  advantage,  social  or- 
ganization loses  its  rigidity.  !X^o  longer  determined  by  the 
principle  of  inheritance,  places  and  occupations  are  now  de- 
termined by  the  principle  of  efficiency;  and  changes  of  struc- 
ture follow  when  men,  not  bound  to  prescribed  functions, 
acquire  the  functions  for  which  they  have  proved  themselves 
most  fit.  Easily  modified  in  its  arrangements,  tlie  industrial 
type  of  society  is  tlicrefore  one  which  adapts  itself  with 
facility  to  new  requirements. 

§  572.  The  other  incidental  result  to  be  named  is  a  ten- 
dency towards  loss  of  economic  autonomy. 

"While  hostile  relations  with  adjacent  societies  continue, 
each  society  has  to  be  productively  self-sufficing;  but  with 
the  establishment  of  peaceful  relations,  this  need  for  self- 
sufficingness  ceases.  As  the  local  divisions  composing  one 
of  our  great  nations,  had,  while  they  were  at  feud,  to  produce 
each  for  itself  almost  everything  it  required,  but  now  per- 
manently at  peace  witli  one  another,  have  become  so  far  mu- 
tually de])('ndent  that  no  one  of  them  can  satisfy  its  wants 
withont  aid  from  the  rest;  so  the  great  natiojis  themselves,  at 
present  forced  in  large  measure  to  maintain  tlieir  economic 
autonomies,  will  become  less  forced  to  do  this  as  war  de- 
creases, and  will  gradnally  become  necessary  to  one  another. 
AVliilc,  on  tlie  one  liaiid,  the  facilities  possessed  by  each  for 
certain  hinds  of  production,  will  render  exchange  mutually 
advantaiicons;  on  tlie  other  hand,  the  citizen  of  each  will, 
under  iLe  industrial  regime,  tolerate  no  such  restraints  on 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE   OF  SOCIETY.  615 

tlieir  individualities  as  are  implied  by  interdicts  on  exchange 
or  impediments  to  exchange. 

With  the  spread  of  industrialism,  therefore,  the  tendency 
is  towards  the  breaking  down  of  the  divisions  between  na- 
tionalities, and  the  running  through  them  of  a  common  or- 
ganization: if  not  under  a  single  government,  then  under  a 
federation  of  governments. 

§  573.  Such  being  the  constitution  of  the  industrial  type 
of  society  to  be  inferred  from  its  requirements,  we  have  now 
to  inquire  what  evidence  is  furnished  by  actual  societies  that 
approach  towards  this  constitution  accompanies  the  progress 
of  industrialism. 

As,  during  the  peopling  of  the  Earth,  the  strugglig  for  ex- 
istence among  societies,  from  small  hordes  up  to  great  na- 
tions, has  been  nearly  everywhere  going  on;  it  is,  as  before 
said,  not  to  be  expected  that  we  should  readily  find  examples 
of  the  social  type  appropriate  to  an  exclusively  industrial 
life.  Ancient  records  join  the  journals  of  the  day  in  proving 
that  thus  far  no  civilized  or  semi-civilized  nation  has  fallen 
into  circumstances  making  needless  all  social  structures  for 
resisting  aggression;  and  from  every  region  travellers'  ac- 
counts bring  evidence  that  almost  universally  among  the  un- 
civilized, hostilities  between  tribes  are  chronic.  Still,  a  few 
examples  exist  which  show,  with  tolerable  clearness,  the  out- 
line of  the  industrial  type  in  its  rudimentary  form — the  form 
which  it  assumes  where  culture  has  made  but  little  progress. 
We  will  consider  these  first;  and  then  proceed  to  disentangle 
the  traits  distinctive  of  the  industrial  type  as  exhibited  by 
large  nations  which  have  become  predominantly  industrial 
in  their  activities. 

Among  the  Indian  hills  there  arc  many  tribes  belonging  to 
different  races,  but  alike  in  their  partially-nomadic  habits. 
Mostly  agricultural,  their  common  practice  is  to  cultivate  a 
patch  of  ground  while  it  yields  average  crops,  and  when  it  i< 
exhausted  to  go  elsewhere  and  repeat  the  process.    They  have 


G16  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

fled  before  invadiug  peo])les,  aiul  have  here  aiul  there  fcimd 
localities  in  wliieh  thev  are  able  to  carry  on  their  peaceful 
occupations  unmolested :  the  absence  of  molestation  being,  in 
some  cases,  due  to  their  ability  to  live  in  a  malarious  atmo- 
sphere which  is  fatal  to  the  Aryan  races.  Already,  under 
other  heads,  I  have  referred  to  the  Jiodo  and  to  the  Dhimiils 
as  wholly  unmilitary,  as  lacking  political  organization,  as  be- 
ing without  slaves  or  social  grades,  and  as  aiding  one  another 
in  their  heavier  undertakings;  to  the  Todas,  who,  leading 
tranquil  lives,  are"  without  any  of  those  bonds  of  union  which 
man  in  general  is  induced  to  form  from  a  sense  of  danger," 
and  who  settle  their  disputes  by  arbitration  or  by  a  council 
of  live;  to  the  Mishmies  as  being  nn warlike,  as  having  but 
nominal  chiefs,  and  as  administering  justice  by  an  assembly; 
and  I  have  joined  with  these  the  case  of  a  jicople  remote  in 
locality  and  race — the  ancient  Pueblos  of  Xorth  America — 
who,  sheltering  in  their  walled  villages  and  fighting  only 
Avhen  invaded,  similarly  united  with  their  habitually  indus- 
trial life  a  free  form  of  government:  "  the  governor  and  his 
council  are  [were]  annuallyelected  by  the  people."  Here 

I  may  add  sundry  kindred  examples.  .\s  described  in  the 
Indian  Government  Keport  for  1800 — 70,  "«the  '  white 
Karens  '  are  of  a  mild  and  peaceful  disposition,  .  .  .  their 
chiefs  are  regarded  as  patriarchs,  who  have  little  more  than 
a  nominal  authority;  "  or,  as  said  of  them  by  Lieut.  ^Ic- 
^[ahon,  "  they  possess  neither  laws  nor  dominant  authority." 
Instance,  again,  the  "fascinating"  Lepchas;  not  industri- 
ous, but  yet  industrial  in  the  sense  that  their  social  relations 
are  of  the  non-militant  type.  Though  I  find  nothing  spe- 
cific said  about  the  system  under  which  they  live  in  their 
temporary  \allages;  yet  tlie  facts  told  us  sufficiently  imply  its 
uncoercive  character,  'i'liey  have  no  castes;  "  family  and 
political  feuds  are  alike  unheard  of  amongst  them;  "  "  they 
are  averse  to  soldiering;  "  they  ])refer  taking  refuge  in  the 
jungle  and  living  on  wild  food  "  to  enduring  any  injustice  or 
harsh  treatment " — traits  Avliich  negative  ordinary  political 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  G17 

control.  Take  next  tlic  '"  quiet,  unoffensive  "  Santals,  who, 
while  they  fight  if  need  be  Avith  infatuated  bravery  to  resist 
aggression,  are  essentially  unaggressive.  These  people  "  are 
industrious  cultivators,  and  enjoy  their  existence  unfettered 
by  caste."  Though,  having  become  tributaries,  there  habi- 
tually exists  in  each  village  a  head  appointed  by  the  Indian 
Government  to  be  responsible  for  the  tribute,  &c. ;  yet  the 
nature  of  their  indigenous  government  remains  sufficiently 
clear.  While  there  is  a  patriarch  who  is  honoured,  but  who 
rarely  interferes,  "  every  village  has  its  council. place,  .  .  . 
Avhere  the  committee  assemble  and  discuss  the  affairs  of  the 
village  and  its  inhabitants.  All  petty  disputes,  both  of  a 
civil  and  criminal  nature,  are  settled  there."  What  little  is 
told  us  of  tribes  living  in  the  Shervaroy  Hills  is,  so  far  as  it 
goes,  to  like  effect.  Speaking  generally  of  them,  Shortt  says 
they  "  are  essentially  a  timid  and  harmless  people,  addicted 
chiefly  to  pastoral  and  agricultural  pursuits;  "  and  more 
specifically  describing  one  division  of  them,  he  says  "  they 
lead  peaceable  lives  among  themselves,  and  any  dispute  that 
may  arise  is  usually  settled  by  arbitration."  Then,  to  show 
that  these  social  traits  are  not  peculiar  to  any  one  variety  of 
man,  but  ar^  dependent  on  conditions,  I  may  recall  the  before- 
named  instance  of  the  Papuan  Arafuras,  who,  without  an}' 
divisions  of  rank  or  hereditary  chieftainships,  live  in  har- 
mony, controlled  only  by  the  decisions  of  their  assembled 
elders.  In  all  which  cases  we  may  discern  the  leading  traits 
above  indicated  as  proper  to  societies  not  impelled  to  corpo- 
rate action  by  war.  Strong  centralized  control  not  being  re- 
quired, such  government  as  exists  is  exercised  by  a  council, 
infonnally  approved — a  rude  representative  government; 
class-distinctions  do  not  exist,  or  are  but  faintly  indicated — ■ 
the  relation  of  status  is  absent;  whatever  transactions  take 
place  between  individuals  are  by  agreement;  and  the  func- 
tion which  the  rnling  body  has  to  jicrfonn,  becomes  substan- 
tially limited  to  protectingprivate  life  by  settling  such  disputes 
as  arise,  and  inflicting  mild  punishments  for  small  offences. 


618  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

DifSeiilties  meet  us  when,  turning  to  civilized  societies,  we 
seek  in  them  for  traits  of  the  industrial  type.  Consolidated 
and  organized  as  they  have  all  been  by  wars  actively  carried 
on  throughout  the  earlier  periods  of  their  existence,  and 
mostly  continued  down  to  recent  times;  and  having  simul- 
taneously been  developing  within  themselves  organizations 
for  producing  and  distributing  commodities,  which  have 
little  by  little  become  contrasted  with  those  proper  to  mili- 
tant activities;  the  two  are  everywhere  presented  so  mingled 
that  clear  separation  of  the  first  from  the  last  is,  as  said  at 
the  outset,  scarcely  practicable.  Radically  opposed,  however, 
as  is  compulsory  cooperation,  the  organizing  principle  of  the 
militant  type,  to  voluntary  cooperation,  the  organizing  prin- 
ciple of  the  industrial  type,  we  may,  by  observing  the  decline 
of  institutions  exliibiting  the  one,  recognize,  by  implication, 
the  gTowth  of  institutions  exhibiting  the  other.  Hence  if,  in 
passing  from  the  first  states  of  civilized  nations  in  which  war 
is  the  business  of  life,  to  states  in  which  hostilities  are  but 
occasional,  we  simultaneously  pass  to  states  in  which  the 
ownership  of  the  indi\ddual  by  his  society  is  not  so  con- 
stantly and  strenuously  enforced,  in  which  the  subjection  of 
rank  to  rank  is  mitigated,  in  which  political  rule  is  no  longer 
autocratic,  in  which  the  regulation  of  citizens'  lives  is  dimi- 
nished in  range  and  rigour,  while  the  protection  of  them  is 
increased;  we  are,  by  implication,  shown  the  traits  of  a  de- 
veloping industrial  type.  Comparisons  of  several  kinds  dis- 
close results  which  unite  in  verifying  this  truth. 

Take,  first,  the  broad  contrast  between  the  early  condition 
of  the  more  civilized  European  nations  at  large,  and  their 
later  condition.  Setting  out  from  the  dissolution  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  we  observe  that  for  many  centuries  during 
which  conflicts  were  effecting  consolidations,  and  dissolutions, 
and  re-consolidations  in  endless  variety,  such  energies  as 
were  not  directly  devoted  to  war  were  devoted  to  little  else 
than  supporting  the  organizations  which  carried  on  war:  the 
working  part  of  each  community  did  not  exist  for  its  own 


THE  IN^DUSTRIAL  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.  619 

sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  fighting  part.  While  militancy 
was  thus  high  and  industrialism  undeveloped,  the  reign  of 
superior  strength,  continually  being  established  by  societies 
one  over  another,  was  equally  displayed  within  each  society. 
From  slaves  and  serfs,  through  vassals  of  different  grades  up 
to  dukes  and  king's,  there  was  an  enforced  subordination  by 
which  the  individualities  of  all  were  greatly  restricted.  And 
at  the  same  time  that,  to  carry  on  external  aggi'ession  or 
resistance,  the  ruling  power  in  each  group  sacrificed  the  per- 
sonal claims  of  its  members,  the  function  of  defending  its 
members  from  one  another  was  in  but  small  degree  discharged 
by  it:  they  were  left  to  defend  themselves.  If  ^vith 

these  traits  of  European  societies  in  mediaeval  times,  we  com- 
pare their  traits  in  modern  times,  we  see  the  following  essen- 
tial diiferences.  First,  Avith  the  formation  of  nations  cover- 
ing large  areas,  the  perpetual  wars  within  each  area  have 
ceased;  and  though  the  wars  between  nations  which  from 
time  to  time  occur  are  on  larger  scales,  they  are  less  frequent, 
and  they  are  no  longer  the  business  of  all  freemen.  Second, 
there  has  grown  up  in  each  country  a  relatively  large  popu- 
lation which  carries  on  production  and  distribution  for  its 
own  maintenance;  so  that  whereas  of  old,  the  working  part 
existed  for  the  benefit  of  the  fighting  part,  now  the  fighting 
part  exists  mainly  for  the  benefit  of  the  working  part — ex- 
ists ostensibly  to  protect  it  in  the  quiet  pursuit  of  its  ends. 
Third,  the  system  of  status,  having  under  some  of  its  forms 
disappeared  and  under  others  become  greatly  mitigated,  has 
been  almost  universally  replaced  by  the  system  of  contract. 
Only  among  those  who,  by  choice  or  by  conscription,  are 
incorporated  in  the  military  organization,  does  the  system  of 
status  in  its  primitive  rigour  still  hold  so  long  as  they  re- 
main in  this  organization.  Fourth,  with  this  decrease  of 
compulsory  cooperation  and  increase  of  voluntary  coopera- 
tion, there  have  diminished  or  ceased  many  minor  restraints 
over  individual  actions.  Men  are  less  tied  to  their  locali- 
ties   than    they   were;    they    are    not    obliged    to    profess 


620  POLITICAL  IXSTITUTIOXS. 

certain  religious  opinions;  they  are  less  debarred  from  ex- 
pressing their  political  views;  they  no  longer  have  their 
dresses  and  modes  of  living  dictated  to  them)  they  are  com- 
paratively little  restrained  from  forming  private  combina- 
tions and  holding  meetings  for  one  or  other  purpose — polit- 
ical, religious,  social.  Fifth,  while  the  individualities  of 
citizens  are  less  aggressed  ujjon  liy  |)ul»lic  agency,  they  are 
more  protected  by  public  agency  against  aggi'ession.  In- 
stead of  a  rcyinie  under  which  individuals  rectified  their  pri- 
vate wrongs  by  force  as  well  as  they  could,  or  else  bribed  the 
ruler,  general  or  local,  to  use  his  power  in  their  behalf,  there 
has  come  a  regime  under  which,  while  much  less  self-protec- 
tion is  required,  a  chief  function  of  the  ruling  power  and  ita 
agents  is  to  administer  justice.  In  all  ways,  then,  we  are 
shown  that  with  this  relative  decrease  of  militancy  and  rela- 
tive increase  of  industrialism,  there  has  been  a  change  from 
a  social  order  in  which  individuals  exist  for  the  benefit  of 
the  State,  to  a  social  order  in  which  the  State  exists  for  the 
benefit  of  individuals. 

When,  instead  of  contrasting  early  European  communities 
at  large  with  Euro]>ean  communities  at  large  as  they  now 
exist,  we  contrast  the  one  in  which  industrial  develojjment 
has  been  less  impeded  by  militancy  with  those  in  which  it 
has  been  more  imjx'ded  by  militancy,  parallel  results  are  aj)- 
])arent.  Between  our  own  society  and  c(jiitin('ntal  societies, 
as  for  example,  France,  the  diiferences  which  have  gradually 
arisen  may  be  cited  in  illustration.  After  the  con- 

quering Xormans  had  spread  over  England,  there  was  esta- 
blished here  a  much  greater  subordination  of  local  rulers  to 
the  general  ruler  than  existed  in  France;  and,  as  a  result, 
there  was  not  nearly  so  much  internal  dissension.  Says 
Hallam,  speaking  of  this  period,  "  we  read  very  little  of 
private  wars  in  England."  Though  from  time  to  time,  as 
under  Ste])hen,  there  were  rebellions,  and  thougli  there  were 
occasional  fights  l^etween  nobles,  yet  for  some  hundred  and 
fifty  years,  up  to  the  time  of  King  John,  tlic  subjection  main- 


THE   INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.  621 

tained  secured  coiii})arative  order.  Furtlier,  it  is  to  be  noted 
that  such  general  wars  as  occurred  were  mostly  carried  on 
abroad.  Descents  on  our  coasts  were  few  and  unimportant, 
and  conflicts  with  AVales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  entailed  but 
few  intrusions  on  English  soil.  Consequently,  there  was  a 
relatively  small  hindrance  to  industrial  life  and  the  gTOwth 
of  social  forms  appropriate  to  it.  Meanwhile,  the  condition 
of  France  was  widely  different.  During  this  period  and  long 
after,  besides  ware  with  England  (mostly  fought  out  on 
French  soil)  and  wars  with  other  countries,  there  were  going 
on  everywhere  local  wars.  From  the  10th  to  the  14th  cen- 
tury perpetual  fights  between  suzerains  and  their  vassals  oc- 
curred, as  well  as  fights  of  vassals  with  one  another.  Not 
until  towards  the  middle  of  the  14th  century  did  the  king 
begin  greatly  to  predominate  over  the  nobles;  and  only  in 
the  15th  century  was  there  established  a  supreme  ruler  strong 
enough  to  prevent  the  quarrels  of  local  rulers.  How  gTcat 
was  the  repression  of  industrial  development  caused  by  in- 
ternal conflicts,  may  be  inferred  from  the  exaggerated  lan- 
guage of  an  old  writer,  who  says  of  this  period,  during  which 
the  final  struggle  of  monarchy  with  feudalism  was  going 
on,  that  "  agriculture,  traffic,  and  all  the  mechanical  arts 
ceased."  Such  being  the  contrast  between  the  small 

degree  in  which  industrial  life  was  impeded  by  war  in  Eng- 
land, and  the  great  degree  in  which  it  was  impeded  by  war 
in  France,  let  us  ask — what  were  the  political  contrasts  wdiich 
arose.  The  first  fact  to  be  noted  is  that  in  the  middle  of 
the  13th  century  there  began  in  England  a  mitigation  of 
villeinage,  by  limitati(m  of  labour-services  and  commutation 
of  them  for  money,  and  that  in  the  14th  centmy  the  trans- 
formation of  a  servile  into  a  free  population  had  in  great 
measure  taken  place;  while  in  France,  as  in  other  continental 
countries,  the  old  condition  su^^'^ved  and  became  worse.  As 
Mr.  Freeman  says  of  this  period — "  in  England  villeinage 
"Was  on  the  whole  dying  out,  while  in  many  other  countries  it 
Was  getting  harder  and  harder."     Besides  this  spreading  sub- 


622  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

stitution  of  contract  for  status,  which,  taking-  place  first  in 
the  industrial  centres,  the  towns,  afterwards  went  on  in  the 
rural  districts,  there  was  going  on  an  analogous  enfranchise- 
ment of  the  noble  class.  The  enforced  military  obligations 
of  vassals  were  more  and  more  replaced  by  money  payments 
or  scutages;  so  that  by  King  John's  time,  the  lighting  serv- 
ices of  the  upper  class  had  been  to  a  great  extent  compounded 
for,  like  the  labour  services  of  the  lower  class.  After  dimi- 
nished restraints  over  persons,  there  came  diminished  inva- 
sions of  property.  By  the  Charter,  arbitrary  tallages  on  towns 
and  non-military  king's  tenants  were  checked;  and  while 
the  aggi'essive  actions  of  the  'State  were  thus  decreased,  its 
protective  actions  were  extended:  provisions  were  made  that 
justice  should  be  neither  sold,  delayed,  nor  denied.  All 
which  changes  were  towards  those  social  arrangements  which 
we  see  characterize  the  industrial  type.  Then,  in  the  next 
place,  we  have  the  subsequently-occurring  rise  of  a  represen- 
tative government;  which,  as  shown  in  a  preceding  chapter 
by  another  line  of  inquiry,  is  at  once  the  product  of  industrial 
growth  and  the  form  proper  to  the  industrial  type.  But  in 
France  none  of  these  changes  took  place.  Villeinage  remain- 
ing unmitigated  continued  to  comparatively  late  times;  com- 
pounding for  military  obligation  of  vassal  to  suzerain  was  less 
general;  and  when  there  arose  tendencies  towards  the  esta- 
blishment of  an  assembly  expressing  the  popular  will,  they 
proved  abortive.  Detailed  comparisons  of  subsequent 

periods  and  their  changes  would  detain  us  too  long:  it  must 
suffice  to  indicate  the  leading  facts.  Beginning  with  the 
date  at  which,  under  the  influences  just  indicated,  parlia- 
mentary government  was  finally  established  in  England,  we 
find  that  for  a  century  and  a  half,  down  to  the  Aral's  of  the 
Roses,  the  internal  disturbances  were  few  rnd  unimportant 
compared  with  those  which  took  place  in  Franco;  and  at  the 
same  time  (remembering  that  the  wai*s  between  England 
and  France,  habitually  taking  place  on  French  soil,  affected 
the  state  of  France  more  than  tliat  of  England)  we  note  that 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  623 

France  carried  on  serious  wars  with  Flanders,  Castille  and 
j^avarre  besides  the  struggle  with  Burgundy :  the  result  be- 
ing that  while  in  England  popular  power  as  expressed  by 
the  House  of  Commons  became  settled  and  increased,  such 
power  as  the  States  General  had  acquired  in  France,  dwindled 
away.  Xot  forgetting  that  by  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  lasting 
over  thirty  years,  there  was  initiated  a  return  towards  abso- 
lutism; let  us  contemplate  the  contrasts  which  subsequently 
arose.  For  a  century  and  a  half  after  these  civil  conflicts 
ended,  there  were  but  few  and  trivial  breaches  of  internal 
peace;  while  such  wars  as  went  on  with  foreign  powei-s,  not 
numerous,  took  place  as  usual  ^ut  of  England.  During  this 
period  the  retrograde  movement  which  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses  set  up,  was  reversed,  and  popular  power  greatly  in- 
creased; so  that  in  the  words  of  Mr.  Bagehot,  "  the  slavisli 
parliament  of  Henry  VIII.  grew  into  the  murmuring  parlia- 
ment of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  mutinous  parliament  of  James 
I.,  and  the  rebellious  parliament  of  Charles  I."  Meanwhile 
France,  during  the  first  third  of  this  period,  had  been  en- 
gaged in  almost  continuous  external  wars  with  Italy,  Spain, 
and  Austria ;  while  during  the  remaining  two-thirds,  it  suf- 
fered from  almost  continuous  internal  w^ars,  religious  and 
political :  the  accompanying  result  being  that,  notwithstand- 
ing resistances  from  time  to  time  made,  the  monarchy  became 
increasingly  despotic.  Fully  to  make  manifest  the 

different  social  types  which  had  been  evolved  under  these 
different  conditions,  we  have  to  compare  not  only  the  respec- 
tive politi(,'al  constitutions  but  also  the  respective  systems  of 
social  control.  Observe  what  these  were  at  the  time  when 
there  commenced  that  reaction  which  ended  in  the  French 
revolution.  In  liarmonvAvith  the  theory  of  the  militant  type, 
that  the  individual  is  in  life,  liberty,  and  property,  owned  by 
the  State,  the  monarch  was  by  some  held  to  be  the  universal 
proprietor.  The  burdens  he  imposed  upon  landowners  were 
so  grievous  that  a  part  of  them  preferred  abandoning  their 
estates  to  paying.     Then  besides  the  taking  of  property  by 


6i>4  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

the  State,  there  \vas  the  taking  of  hibour.  Oiie-foiirtli  of  the 
working  davs  in  the  year  went  to  the  corvees,  due  now  to  the 
king  and  now  to  the  feudal  lord.  Sueh  liberties  as  were 
allowed,  had  to  be  paid  for  and  again  paid  for :  the  municipal 
privileges  of  towns  being  seven  times  in  twenty-eight  years 
withdrawn  and  re-sold  to  them.  Military  services  of  nobles 
and  people  were  imperative  to  whatever  extent  the  king  de- 
manded; and  conscripts  were  drilled  under  the  lash.  At 
the  same  time  that  the  subjection  of  the  individual  to  the 
State  was  pushed  to  such  an  extreme  by  exactions  of  money 
and  services  that  the  impoverished  people  cut  the  grain  wliile 
it  was  green,  ate  gniss,  and  died  of  starvation  in  multitudes, 
the  State  did  little  to  guard  their  persons  and  homes.  Con- 
temporary writers  enlarge  on  the  immense  numbers  of  high- 
way robberies,  burglaries,  assassinations,  and  torturings  of 
people  to  discover  tlieir  lioards.  Herds  of  vagabonds,  levying 
blackmail,  roamed  about;  and  when,  as  a  remedy,  penalties 
were  im])Osed,  innocent  persons  denounced  as  vagabonds  were 
sent  to  prison  without  evidence.  Xo  personal  security  could 
be  had  either  against  the  ruler  or  against  powerful  enemies. 
In  Paris  there  were  some  thirty  prisons  where  untried  and 
unsentenced  people  might  be  incarcerated;  and  the  ''  brigand- 
age of  justice  "  annually  cost  suitors  forty  to  sixty  millions 
of  francs,  AVhile  the  State,  aggressing  on  citizens  to  such 
extremes,  thus  failed  to  protect  them  against  one  another,  it 
was  active  in  regulating  their  private  lives  and  labours.  Re- 
ligion was  dictated  to  tlu>  extent  that  Protestants  were  im- 
prisoned, sent  to  tlie  galleys,  or  whipped,  and  their  ministers 
hanged.  The  (piantity  of  salt  (on  which  tlicre  was  a  heavy 
tax)  to  be  consumed  by  each  person  was  prescribed ;  as  were 
also  the  modes  of  its  use.  Industry  of  every  kind  was  super- 
vised. Certain  crops  were  proliibited;  and  vines  destroyed 
that  were  on  soils  considered  iitilir.  The  wlu-at  that  might 
be  bought  at  market  was  limited  to  two  bushels;  and  sales 
took  place  in  presence  of  dragoons.  ]\Iaiuifacturers  were 
regulated  in  their  processes  and  products  to  the  extent  that 


THE  INDUSTRIiVL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  625 

there  was  destruction  of  iiiii)i-oved  appliances  and  of  goods 
not  made  according  to  law,  as  well  as  penalties  upon  in- 
ventors. Regulations  succeeded  one  another  so  rapidly  that 
amid  their  multiplicity,  government  agents  found  it  difficult 
to  carry  them  out;  and  with  increasing  official  orders  there 
came  increasing  swarms  of  public  functionaries.  Turning 
now  to  England  at  the  same  period,  we  see  that  along  with 
progress  towards  the  industrial  type  of  political  structure, 
carried  to  the  extent  that  the  House  of  Commons  had  become 
the  predominant  power,  there  had  gone  a  progress  towards 
the  accompanying  social  system.  Though  the  subjection  of 
the  individual  to  the  State  was  considerably  greater  than  now, 
it  was  far  less  than  in  France.  His  priN'ate  rights  were  not 
sacrificed  in  the  same  unscrupulous  way ;  and  he  was  not  in 
danger  of  a  lettre  de  cachet.  Though  justice  was  very  imper- 
fectly administered,  still  it  was  not  administered  so  wretch- 
edly: there  was  a  fair  amount  of  personal  security,  and  ag- 
gressions on  property  were  kept  within  bounds.  1'he  disa- 
bilities of  Protestant  dissenters  were  diminished  early  in  the 
century;  and,  later  on,  those  of  Catholics.  Considerable 
freedom  of  the  press  was  acquired,  showing  itself  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  political  questions,  as  well  as  in  the  publication  of 
parliamentary  debates;  and,  about  the  same  time,  there  came 
free  speech  in  public  meetings.  While  thus  the  State  ag- 
gressed on  the  individual  less  and  protected  him  more,  it  in- 
terfered to  a  smaller  extent  with  his  daily  transactions. 
Though  there  was  much  regulation  of  commerce  and  indus- 
try, yet  it  was  pushed  to  no  such  extreme  as  that  which  in 
France  subjected  agriculturists,  manufacturers,  and  mer- 
chants, to  an  army  of  officials  who  directed  their  acts  at  eveiw 
turn.  In  brief,  the  contrast  between  our  state  and  that  of 
France  was  such  as  to  excite  the  surprise  and  admiration  of 
various  French  writers  of  the  time;  from  whom  \{\\  Buckle 
quotes  numerous  passages  showing  this. 

IMost  significant  of  all,  however,  are  the  changes  in  England 
itself,  first  retrogressive  and  then  progressive,  that  occurred 


Q26  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

during  tlie  war-period  which  extended  from  1775  to  1815, 
and  diu'ing  the  subso(|iient  period  of  peace.  At  the  end  of 
the  hist  century  and  the  beginning  of  this,  reversion  towards 
ownership  of  the  individual  by  the  society  had  gone  a  h)ng 
way.  "  To  statesmen,  the  State,  as  a  unit,  was  all  in  all,  and 
it  is  really  difficult  to  lind  any  evidence  that  the  people  were 
thought  of  at  all,  except  in  the  relation  of  obedience."  "  The 
Government  regarded  the  people  with  little  other  view  than 
as  a  taxable  and  soldier-yielding  mass."  While  the  militant 
part  of  the  community  had  greatly  developed,  the  industrial 
part  had  approached  towards  the  condition  of  a  permanent 
commissariat.  By  conscription  and  by  press-gangs,  was  car- 
ried to  a  relatively  vast  extent  that  sacrifice  of  the  citizen 
in  life  and  liberty  which  war  entails;  and  the  claims  to 
property  were  trenched  on  by  merciless  taxation,  weighing 
down  the  middle  classes  so  grievously  that  they  had  greatly 
to  lower  their  rate  of  living,  while  the  people  at  large  were 
so  distressed  (partly  no  doubt  by  bad  harvests)  that  "  hun- 
dreds ate  nettles  and  other  weeds."  With  these  major  ag- 
gressions upon  "the  individual  by  the  State,  went  numerous 
minor  aggressions.  Irresponsible  agents  of  the  executive 
were  empowered  to  suppress  public  meetings  and  seize  their 
leaders:  death  being  the  punishment  for  those  who  did  not 
disperse  when  ordered.  Libraries  and  news-rooms  could  not 
be  opened  without  licence;  and  it  was  penal  to  lend  books 
without  permission.  There  were  "  strenuous  attempts  made 
to  silence  the  press;  "  and  booksellers  dared  not  publish  works 
by  obnoxious  authors.  "  Spies  were  paid,  witnesses  were 
suborned,  juries  were  packed,  and  the  habeas  corpus  Act  be- 
ing constantly  suspended,  the  Crown  had  the  power  of  im- 
prisoning without  inquiry  and  without  limitation."  While 
the  Government  taxed  and  coerced  and  restrained  the  citizen 
to  this  extent,  its  protection  of  him  was  inefiicient.  It  is  true 
that  the  penal  code  was  made  more  extensive  and  more  se- 
vere. The  definition  of  treason  was  enlarged,  and  numerous 
offences  were  made  capital  which  were  not  capital  before;  so 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.'  627 

that  there  was  ''  a  vast  aucl  absurd  variety  of  offences  for 
which  men  and  women  were  sentenced  to  death  by  the 
score:  "  there  was  ''  a  devihsh  levity  in  dealing  with  human 
life."  But  at  the  same  time  there  was  not  an  increase,  but 
rather  a  decrease,  of  security.  As  says  Mr.  Pike  in  his 
History  of  Crime  in  England,  "  it  became  apparent  that  the 
greater  the  strain  of  the  conflict  the  greater  is  the  danger  of  a 
reaction  towards  violence  and  lawlessness."  Turn  now 

to  the  opposite  picture.  After  recovery  from  the  prostration 
which  prolonged  wars  had  left,  and  after  the  dying  away  of 
those  social  perturbations  caused  by  impoverishment,  there 
began  a  revival  of  traits  proper  to  the  industrial  type.  Co- 
ercion of  the  citizen  by  the  State  decreased  in  various  ways. 
Voluntary  enlistment  replaced  compulsory  military  service; 
and  there  disappeared  some  minor  restraints  over  personal 
freedom,  as  instance  the  repeal  of  laws  which  forbade  artizans 
to  travel  where  they  pleased,  and  which  interdicted  trades- 
unions.  AVith  these  manifestations  of  greater  respect  for 
personal  freedom,  may  be  joined  those  shown  in  the  amelio- 
ration of  the  penal  code:  the  public  whipping  of  females  be- 
ing first  abolished ;  then  the  long  list  of  capital  offences  being 
reduced  until  there  finally  remained  but  one;  and,  eventu- 
ally, the  pillory  and  imprisonment  for  debt  being  abolished. 
Such  penalties  on  religious  independence  as  remained  disap- 
peared; first  by  removal  of  those  directed  against  Protestant 
Dissenters,  and  then  of  those  which  weighed  on  Catholics, 
and  then  of  some  which  told  specially  against  Quakers  and 
Jews.  By  the  Parliamentary  Reform  Bill  and  the  Muni- 
cipal Reform- Bill,  vast  numbers  were  removed  from  the  sub- 
ject classes  to  the  governing  classes.  Interferences  with  the 
business-transactions  of  citizens  were  diminished  by  allowing 
free  trade  in  bullion,  by  permitting  joint-stock  banks,  by 
abolishing  multitudinous  restrictions  on  the  importation  of 
commodities — leaving  eventually  but  few  which  pay  duty. 
Moreover  while  these  and  kindred  changes,  such  as  the  re- 
moval (if  rostraiiiiiig  Imrdciis  on  tlio  ]iro^s,  decreased  tlio  im- 


028  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

pediments  to  free  actions  of  citizens,  the  protective  action 
of  the  State  was  increased.  By  a  greatly-improved  police 
system,  by  county  courts,  and  so  forth,  personal  safety  and 
claims  to  property  were  better  secured. 

Xot  to  elaborate  the  argument  further  by  adding  the  case 
of  the  United  States,  which  repeats  with  minor  differences 
the  same  relations  of  phenomena,  the  evidence  given  ade- 
quately supports  the  proposition  laid  down.  Amid  all  the 
complexities  and  perturbations,  comparisons  show  us  with 
sufficient  clearness  that  in  actually-existing  societies  those 
attributes  which  we  inferred  must  distinguish  the  industrial 
type,  show  themselves  clearly  in  proportion  as  the  social 
activities  are  predominantly  characterized  by  exchange  of 
services  under  agreement. 

§  574.  As,  in  the  last  chapter,  we  noted  the  traits  of  cha- 
racter proper  to  the  members  of  a  society  which  is  habitually 
at  war;  so  here,  we  have  to  note  the  traits  of  character 
proper  to  the  members  of  a  society  occupied  exclusively  in 
peaceful  pursuits.  Already  in  delineating  above,  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  industrial  type  of  social  structure  as  exhibited 
in  certain  small  groujw  of  unwarlike  peoples,  some  indications 
of  the  accompanying  personal  qualities  have  been  given ;  but 
it  will  be  well  now  to  emphasize  these  and  add  to  them,  be- 
fore observing  the  kindred  personal  qualities  in  more  ad- 
vanced industrial  communities. 

Absence  of  a  centralized  coercive  rule,  implying  as  it  does 
feeble  political  restraints  exercised  by  the  society  over  its 
units,  is  accompanied  by  a  strong  sense  of  individual  free- 
dom, and  a  determination  to  maintain  it.  The  amiable  Bodo 
and  Dhimals,  as  we  have  seen,  resist  ''  injunctions  injudi- 
ciously urged  with  dogged  obstinacy."  The  peaceful  Lep- 
chas  "  undergo  great  privations  rather  than  submit  to  oppres- 
sion or  injustice."  The  "  simple-minded  Santiils  "  has  a 
"  strong  natural  sense  of  justice,  and  should  any  attempt  be 
made  to  coerce  him,  lie  flics  the  ('((UDtrv."      Similarlv  of  a 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  629 

tribe  not  before  mentioned,  tlie  Jakims  of  the  South  Malayan 
Peninsula,  who,  described  as  "  entirely  inoffensive,"  person- 
ally brave  but  peaceful,  and  as  under  no  control  but  that  of 
popularly-api^ointed  heads  who  settle  their  disputes,  are  also 
described  as  ''  extremely  proud:  "  the  so-called  pride  being 
exemplified  by  the  statement  that  their  remarkably  good 
qualities  ''  induced  several  persons  to  make  attempts  to  do- 
mesticate them,  but  such  essays  have  generally  ended  in 
the  Jakuns'  disappearance  on  the  slightest  coercion." 

With  a  strong  sense  of  their  own  claims,  these  unwarlike 
men  display  unusual  respect  for  the  claims  of  others.  This  is 
shown  in  the  first  place  by  the  rarity  of  personal  collisions 
among  them.  Hodgson  says  that  the  Bodo  and  the  Dhimals 
^'  are  void  of  all  violence  towards  their  own  people  or  towards 
their  neighbours."  Of  the  peaceful  tribes  of  the  jSTeilgherry 
Hills,  Colonel  Ouchterlony  writes: — "  drunkenness  and  vio- 
lence are  unknown  amongst  them."  Campbell  remarks  of 
the  Lepchas,  that  "  they  rarely  quarrel  among  themselves." 
The  Jakuns,  too,  ''  have  very  seldom  quarrels  among  them- 
selves ;  "  and  such  disputes  as  arise  are  settled  by  their  popu- 
larly-chosen heads  "  without  fighting  or  malice."  In  like 
manner  the  Arafuras  '"  live  in  peace  and  brotherly  love  with 
one  another."  Further,  in  the  accounts  of  these  peoples  v>^e 
read  nothing  about  the  lex  talionis.  In  the  absence  of  hos- 
tilities with  adjacent  groups  there  does  not  exist  within  each 
group  that  "  sacred  duty  of  blood-revenge  "  universally  rec- 
ognized in  military  tribes  and  nations.  Still  more  signifi- 
cantly, we  find  evidence  of  the  opposite  doctrine  and  practice. 
Says  Campbell  of  the  Lepchas — "  they  are  singularly  forgiv- 
ing of  injuries  .  .  .  making  mutual  amends  and  concessions." 

Naturally,  Avith  respect  for  others'  individualities  thus 
shown,  goes  respect  for  their  claims  to  property.  Already  in 
the  preliminary  chapter  I  have  quoted  testimonies  to  the 
great  honesty  of  the  Bodo  and  the  Dhimals,  the  Lepchas,  the 
Santals,  the  Todas,  and  other  peoples  kindred  in  their  form  of 
social  life ;  and  here  I  may  add  further  ones.   Of  the  Lepchas, 


630  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Hooker  remarks: — "  in  all  my  dealings  with  these  people, 
tliey  proved  scrupulously  honest."  *'  Among  the  pure  San- 
tals,"  writes  Hunter,  "  crime  and  criminal  officers  are  un- 
known ;  "  while  pf  the  PIos,  belonging  to  the  same  group  as 
the  Siintals,  Dalton  says,  "  a  reflection  on  a  man's  honesty  or 
veracity  may  be  sufficient  to  send  him  to  self-destruction." 
Shortt  testifies  that  "•  the  Todas,  as  a  body,  have  never  been 
convicted  of  heinous  crimes  of  any  kind;  "  and  concerning 
other  tribes  of  the  Shervaroy  Hills,  he  states  that  "  crime  of 
a  serious  nature  is  unknown  amongst  them."  Again  of  the 
Jakuns  we  read  that  "  they  are  never  known  to  steal  any- 
thing, not  even  the  most  insignificant  trifle."  And  so  of  cer- 
tain natives  of  JMalacca  who  "  are  naturally  of  a  commercial 
turn,"  Jukes  writes: — "  no  ]n\i'\  of  the  world  is  freer  from 
crime  than  the  district  of  Malacca ;  "  *'  a  few  j^etty  cases  of  as- 
sault, or  of  disputes  about  property  .  .  .  are  all  tiiat  occur," 
Thus  free  from  the  coercive  rule  which  warlike  activities 
necessitate,  and  without  the  sentiment  which  makes  the  need- 
ful subordination  possible — thus  maintaining  their  own 
claims  while  respecting  the  like  claims  of  others — thus  de- 
void of  the  vengeful  feelings  wdiich  aggressions  without  and 
within  the  tribe  generate ;  these  jjcoples,  instead  of  the  blood- 
thirstiness,  the  cruelty,  the  selfish  trampling  upon  inferiors, 
characterizing  militant  tribes  and  societies,  disjilay,  in  un- 
usual degrees,  the  hunuine  sentiments.  Insisting  on  their 
amiable  qualities,  Hodgson  describes  the  Bodo  and  the 
Dhimals  as  being  "  almost  entirely  free  from  such  as  are 
unamiable."  Remarking  that  "  while  courteous  and  hos- 
pitable he  is  firm  and  free  from  cringing,"  Hunter  tells  us 
of  the  Santal  that  he  thinks  '"  uncharitable  men  "  will  sufTcr 
after  death.  Saying  that  the  Lepchas  are  "  ever  foremost  in 
the  forest  or  on  the  bleak  mountain,  and  ever  ready  to  help, 
to  carry,  to  encam]i,  collect,  or  cook,"  Hooker  adds — "  they 
cheer  on  the  traveller  by  their  unostentatious  zeal  in  his 
service;  "  and  he  also  adds  that,  "  a  present  is  divided  equally 
amongst  many,  without  a  sylla])le  of  discontent  or  grudging 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OP  SOCIETY.  631 

look  or  word."  Of  .the  Jakims,  too,  Favre  tells  us  that 
"  thej  are  generally  kind,  affable,  inclined  to  gratitude  and 
to  beneficence :  ''  their  tendency  being  not  to  ask  favours  but 
to  confer  them.  And  then  of  the  peaceful  Arafuras  we  learn 
from  Kolff  that — 

"They  have  a  very  excusable  ambition  to  gain  the  name  of  rich  men, 
by  paying  the  debts  of  their  poorer  villagers.  The  officer  [M.  Bik], 
whom  I  quotetl  above,  related  to  me  a  very  striking  instance  of  this. 
At  Affara  he  was  present  at  the  election  of  the  village  chiefs,  two  indi- 
viduals aspiring  to  the  station  of  Orang  Tua.  The  people  chose  ftie 
elder  of  the  two,  which  greatly  afflicted  the  other,  but  he  soon  after- 
wards expressed  himself  satisfied  with  the  choice  the  people  had  made, 
and  said  to  M.  Bik,  who  had  been  sent  there  on  a  commission,  '  What 
reason  have  I  to  grieve ;  whether  I  am  Orang  Tua  or  not,  I  still  have 
it  in  my  power  to  assist  my  fellow  villagers.'  Several  old  men  agreed 
to  this,  apparently  to  comfort  him.  Thus  the  only  use  they  make  of 
their  riches  is  to  employ  it  in  settling  differences. " 

With  these  superiorities  of  the  social  relations  in  perma- 
nently peaceful  tribes,  go  superiorities  of  the  domestic  rela- 
tions. As  I  have  before  pointed  out  (§  327),  while  the  status 
of  women  is  habitually  very  low  in  tribes  given  to  war  and 
in  more  advanced  militant  societies,  it  is  liabitually  very  high 
in  these  primitive  peaceful  societies.  The  Bodo  and  the 
Dhimals,  the  Ivocch,  the  Santals,  the  Lepchas,  are  monogam- 
ic,  as  were  also  the  Pueblos;  and  along  with  their  monog- 
amy habitually  goes  a  superior  sexual  morality.  Of  the 
Lepchas  Hooker  says — "  the  females  are  generally  chaste, 
and  the  marriage  tie  is  strictly  kept."  Among  the  Santals 
"  unchastity  is  almost  unknown,"  and  "  divorce  is  rare."  By 
the  Bodo  and  the  Dhimals,  "  polygamy,  concubinage  and 
adultery  are  not  tolerated ;  "  "  chastity  is  prized  in  man  and 
woman,  married  and  unmarried."  Further  it  is  to  be  noted 
that  the  behaviour  to  women  is  extremely  good.  "  The 
Santal  treats  the  female  members  of  his  family  with  respect ;  " 
the  Bodo  and  tlie  Dhimals  "  treat  their  wives  and  daughters 
with  confidence  and  kindness;  they  are  free  from  all  out-door 
work  whatever."  And  even  among  the  Todas,  low  as  are  the 
foi-ms  of  their  sexual  relations,  "  the  wives  are  treated  by 


632  POLinCAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

their  husbands  with  marked  respect  and  attention."  More- 
over, we  are  told  concerning  sundry  of  these  unwarlike  peo- 
ples that  tlic  status  of  children  is  also  high;  and  IIkm-c  is  none 
of  that  distinction  of  treatment  between  bovs  and  girls  wliich 
characterizes  militant  j)e()ples. 

Of  course  on  turning  to  the  civilized  to  observe  the  furm 
of  individual  character  which  accompanies  the  industrial 
form  of  society,  we  encounter  the  difficulty  that  the  per- 
sqpal  traits  proper  to  industrialism,  arc,  like  the  social  traits, 
mingled  with  those  proper  to  militancy.  It  is  manifestly 
thus  with  ourselves.  A  nation  which,  besides  its  occasional 
serious  wars,  is  continually  carrying  on  small  wars  with  un- 
civilized tribes — a  nation  wliich  is  mainly  ruled  in  Parlia- 
ment and  through  the  press  by  men  whose  school-discipline 
led  them  during  six  days  in  the  week  to  take  Achilles  for  their 
hero,  and  on  the  seventh  to  admire  Christy — a  nation  which, 
at  its  public  dinners,  habitually  toasts  its  army  and  navy  be- 
fore toasting  its  legislative  bodies;  has  not  so  far  emerged 
out  of  militancy  that  we  can  expect  either  the  institutions 
or  the  characteristics  proper  to  industrialism  to  be  shown 
with  clearness.  In  independence,  in  honesty,  in  truthful- 
ness, in  humanity,  its  citizens  are  not  likelj^  to  be  the  equals 
of  the  uncultured  but  peaceful  peoples  above  described.  All 
we  may  anticipate  is  an  approach  to  those  moral  qualities  ap- 
propriate to  a  state  undisturbed  by  international  hostilities; 
and  this  we  find. 

In  the  first  place,  with  progress  of  the  regime  of  contract 
has  come  growth  of  independence.  Daily  exchange  of  ser- 
vices under  agreement,  involving  at  once  the  maintenance  of 
personal  claims  and  respect  for  the  claims  of  others,  has 
fostered  a  normal  self-assertion  and  consequent  resistance  to 
unauthorized  power.  The  facts  that  the  word  "  indepen- 
dence," in  its  modem  sense,  was  not  in  use  among  us  before 
the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and  that  on  the  continent 
independence  is  less  markedly  displayed,  suggest  the  con- 
nexion between  this  trait  and  a  developing  industrialism. 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  633 

Tlie  trait  is  shown  in  the  niiiltitiidinousness  of  religious  sects, 
in  the  divisions  of  political  i)arties,  and,  in  minor  ways,  by 
the  absence  of  those  ''  schools  "  in  art,  philosophy,  (k:c.,w'hicli, 
among  continental  peoples,  are  formed  by  the  submission  of 
discijiles  to  an  adopted  master.  That  Englishmen  show,  more 
than  their  neighbours,  a  jealousy  of  dictation,  and  a  determi- 
nation to  act  as  they  think  fit,  will  not,  I  think,  be  disputed. 

The  diminished  subordination  to  authority,  which  is  the 
obverse  of  this  independence,  of  course  implies  decrease  of 
loyalty.  Worship  of  the  monarch,  at  no  time  with  us  reach- 
ing the  height  it  did  in  France  early  in  the  last  century,  or 
in  Russia  down  to  recent  times,  has  now  changed  into  a  re- 
spect depending  very  much  on  the  monarch's  personal  charac- 
ter. Our  days  witness  no  such  extreme  servilities  of  expres- 
sion as  were  used  by  ecclesiastics  in  the  dedication  of  the 
Bible  to  King  James,  nor  any  such  exaggerated  adulations 
as  those  addressed  to  George  III.  by  the  House  of  Lords, 
The  doctrine  of  divine  right  has  long  since  died  away ;  belief 
in  an  indwelling  supernatural  power  (imjilied  by  the  touch- 
ing for  king's  evil,  &c.)  is  named  as  a  curiosity  of  the  past; 
and  the  monarcliical  institution  has  come  to  bo  defended  on 
grounds  of  expediency.  So  great  has  been  the  decrease  of 
this  sentiment  which,  under  the  militant  rrf/ime,  attaches  sub- 
ject to  ruler,  that  now-a-days  the  conviction  commonly  ex- 
pressed is  that,  should  the  throne  be  occupied  by  a  Charles  II. 
or  a  George  IV,,  there  w^ould  probably  result  a  republic.  And 
this  change  of  feeling  is  shown  in  the  attitude  towards  the 
Government  as  a  whole.  For  not  only  are  there  many  who 
dispute  the  authority  of  the  State  in  respect  of  sundry  mat- 
ters besides  religious  lieliefs,  but  there  are  some  who  passively 
resist  what  they  consider  unjust  exercises  of  its  authority, 
and  pay  fines  or  go  to  prison  rather  than  submit. 

As  this  last  fact  implies,  along  with  decrease  of  loyalty  has 
gone  decrease  of  faith,  not  in  monarchs  only  but  in  govern- 
ments. Such  belief  in  royal  omnipotence  as  existed  in  an- 
cient Egypt,  where  the  power  of  the  ruler  was  supposed  to 


G34  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

extend  to  the  other  world,  as  it  is  even  now  supposed  to  do 
in  China,  has  had  no  parallel  in  the  AVest;  but  still,  amonji; 
European  })eoples  in  past  times,  that  contidcnce  in  the  soldier- 
king  essential  to  the  militant  type,  displayed  itself  among 
other  ways  in  exaggerated  e()n('ej)tions  of  his  ability  to  rectify 
mischiefs,  achieve  benefits,  and  arrange  things  as  he  willed. 
If  we  compare  present  opinion  among  ourselves  with  opinion 
in  early  days,  we  find  a  decline  in  these  credulous  expecta- 
tions. Though,  during  the  late  retrograde  movement  towards 
militancy.  State-power  has  been  invoked  for  various  ends, 
and  faith  in  it  has  increased;  yet,  up  to  the  commencement 
of  this  reaction,  a  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  other 
direction.  After  the  repudiation  of  a  State-enforced  creed, 
there  came  a  denial  of  the  State's  capacity  for  determining 
religious  truth,  and  a  growing  movement  to  relieve  it  from 
the  function  of  religious  teaching;  held  to  be  alike  needless 
and  injurious.  Long  ago  it  had  ceased  to  be  thought  that 
Government  could  do  any  good  by  regulating  people's  food, 
clothing,  and  domestic  habits;  and  over  the  multitudinous 
processes  eai'ried  on  by  producers  and  distributors,  constitut- 
ing immensely  the  larger  ])art  of  our  social  activities,  we  no 
longer  believe  that  legislative  dictation  is  beneficial.  More- 
over, every  newspaper  by  its  criticisms  on  the  acts  of  minis- 
ters and  the  conduct  of  the  House  of  Commons,  betrays  the 
diminished  faith  of  citizens  in  their  rulers.  iS'or  is  it  only 
by  contrasts  between  past  and  present  among  ourselves  that 
we  are  shown  this  trait  of  a  more  developed  industrial  state. 
It  is  shown  by  kindred  contrasts  between  opinion  here  and 
opinion  abroad.  The  speculations  of  social  reformers  in 
France  and  in  Germany,  prove  that  the  hope  for  benefits  to 
be  achieved  by  State-agency  is  far  higher  with  them  than 
with  us. 

Along  with  decrease  of  loyalty  and  concomitant  decrease  of 
faith  in  the  powers  of  governments,  has  gone  decrease  of 
patriotism — patriotism,  that  is,  under  its  original  form.  To 
fight  "  for  king  and  country  "  is  an  ambition  wliich  now-a- 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  635 

days  occupies  but  a  small  space  iu  men's  minds;  aud  thougli 
there  is  among  us  a  majority  whose  sentiment  is  represented 
by  the  exclamation — "  Our  country,  right  or  wrong!  "  yet 
there  are  large  numbei's  whose  desire  for  human  welfare  at 
large,  so  far  overrides  their  desire  for  national  prestige,  that 
they  object  to  sacrificing  the  first  to  the  last.  The  spirit  of 
self-criticism,  which  in  sundry  respects  leads  us  to  make  un- 
favourable comparisons  between  ourselves  and  our  conti- 
nental neighbours,  leads  us  more  than  heretofore  to  blame 
ourselves  for  wrong  conduct  to  weaker  peoples.  The  many 
and  strong  reprobations  of  our  dealing-s  with  the  Afghans,  the 
Zulus,  and  the  Boers,  show  that  there  is  a  large  amount  of  the 
feeling  reprobated  by  the  "  Jingo  "-class  as  unpatriotic. 

That  adaptation  of  individual  nature  to  social  needs,  which, 
in  the  militant  state,  makes  men  glory  in  war  and  despise 
peaceful  pursuits,  has  partially  brought  about  among  us  a 
converse  adjustment  of  the  sentiments.  The  occupation  of 
the  soldier  has  ceased  to  be  so  much  honoured,  and  that  of 
the  civilian  is  more  honoured.  During  the  forty  years'  peace, 
the  popular  sentiment  became  such  that  "  soldiering  "  was 
spoken  of  contemj^tuously;  and  those  who  enlisted,  habitually 
the  idle  and  the  dissolute,  were  commonly  regarded  as  having 
completed  their  disgrace.  Similarly  in  America  before  the 
late  civil  war,  such  small  military  gatherings  and  exercises  as 
from  time  to  time  occurred,  excited  general  ridicule.  ^lean- 
while  we  see  that  labours,  bodily  and  mental,  useful  to  self 
and  others,  have  come  to  be  not  only  honourable  but  in  a 
considerable  degree  imperative.  In  America  the  adverse 
comments  on  a  man  who  does  nothing,  almost  force  him  into 
some  active  pursuit;  and  among  ourselves  the  respect  for 
industrial  life  has  become  such  that  men  of  high  rank  put 
their  sons  into  business. 

While,  as  we  saw,  the  compulsory  cooperation  proper  to 
militancy,  forl^ds,  or  greatly  discourages,  indi\'idual  initia- 
tive, the  voluntary  cooperation  which  distinguishes  industrial- 
ism, gives  free  scope  to  individual  initiative,  and  develop?  it  by 


636  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

letting  enterprise  bring  its  noniuil  advantages.  Those  who 
are  snecessfnlly  original  in  idea  and  act,  prospering  and  mul- 
tiplying in  a  greater  degree  than  others,  produce,  in  course  of 
time,  a  general  type  of  nature  ready  to  undertake  new  things. 
The  speculative  tendencies  of  English  and  Amencan  capital- 
ists, and  the  extent  to  which  large  undertakings,  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  are  carried  out  by  them,  sufficiently  indi- 
cate this  trait  of  character.  Though,  along  with  consider- 
able qualifications  of  militancy  by  industrialism  on  the  con- 
tinent, there  has  occurred  there,  too,  an  extension  of  private 
enterprise;  yet  the  fact  that  while  many  towns  in  France 
and  Germany  have  been  supplied  with  gas  and  water  by 
English  companies,  there  is  in  England  but  little  of  kindred 
achievement  by  foreign  companies,  shows  that  among  the 
more  industrially-moditied  English,  individual  initiative  is 
more  decided. 

There  is  evidence  that  the  decline  of  international  hostili- 
ties, associated  as  it  is  with  the  decline  of  hostilities  between 
families  and  between  individuals,  is  followed  by  a  weakening 
of  revengeful  sentiments.  This  is  implied  by  the  fact  that  in 
our  own  country  the  more  serious  of  these  private  wars  early 
ceased,  leaving  only  the  less  serious  in  the  form  of  duels, 
which  also  have  at  length  ceased:  their  cessation  coinciding 
with  the  recent  great  development  of  industrial  life — a  fact 
with  which  may  be  joined  the  fact  that  in  the  more  militant 
societies,  France  and  Germany,  they  have  not  ceased.  So 
much  among  ourselves  has  the  authority  of  the  lex  talionis 
waned,  that  a  man  whose  actions  are  known  to  be  prompted 
by  the  wish  for  vengeance  on  one  who  has  injured  him,  is 
reprobated  rather  than  applauded. 

With  decrease  of  the  aggressiveness  shown  in  acts  of  vio- 
lence and  consequent  acts  of  retaliation,  has  gone  decrease  of 
the  aggressiveness  shown  in  criminal  acts  at  large.  That 
this  change  has  been  a  concomitant  of  the  change  from  a 
more  militant  to  a  more  industrial  state,  cannot  be  doubted 
by  one  who  studies  the  history  of  crime  in  England.     Says 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  637 

Mr.  Pike  in  bis  work  on  that  subject,  "  the  close  connexion 
between  tbe  military  spirit  and  those  actions  which  are  now 
legally  defined  to  be  crimes,  has  been  pointed  out,  again  and 
again,  in  the  course  of  this  history."  If  we  compare  a  past 
age  in  which  the  eflFects  of  hostile  activities  had  been  less 
qualified  by  the  effects  of  peaceful  activities  than  they  are  in 
our  own  age,  we  see  a  marked  contrast  in  respe<?t  of  the 
numbers  and  kinds  of  offences  against  person  and  property. 
We  have  no  longer  any  English  buccaneers;  ^\'reckers  have 
ceased  to  be  heard  of;  and  travellers  do  not  now  prepare 
themselves  to  meet  highwaymen.  Moreover,  that  iiagitious- 
ness  of  the  governing  agencies  themselves,  which  was  shown 
by  the  venality  of  ministers  and  members  of  Parliament,  and 
by  the  corrupt  administration  of  justice,  has  disappeared. 
AVith  decreasing  amount  of  crime  has  come  increasing  repro- 
bation of  crime.  Biographies  of  pirate  captains,  suffused 
with  admiration  of  their  courage,  no  longer  find  a  place  in 
our  literature;  and  the  sneaking  kindness  for  "  gentlemen  of 
the  road,"  is,  in  our  days,  but  rarely  displayed.  Many  as  are 
the  transgressions  which  our  journals  report,  they  have 
greatly  diminished ;  and  though  in  trading  transactions  there 
is  much  dishonesty  (chiefly  of  the  indirect  sort)  it  needs  but 
to  read  Defoe's  English  Tradesman,  to  see  how  marked  has 
been  the  improvement  since  his  time.  Nor  must  we  forget 
that  the  change  of  character  which  has  brought  a  decrease  of 
imjust  actions,  has  brought  an  increase  of  beneficent  actions; 
as  seen  in  paying  for  slave-emancipation,  in  nursing  the 
wounded  soldiers  of  our  fighting  neighbours,  in  philanthropic 
efforts  of  countless  kinds. 

§  575.  As  with  the  militant  type  then,  so  with  the  indus- 
trial type,  three  lines  of  evidence  converge  to  show  us  its 
essential  nature.  Let  us  set  down  briefly  the  several  results, 
that  we  may  observe  the  correspondences  among  them. 

On  considering  what  must  be  the  traits  of  a  society  or- 
ganized exclusively  for  carrying  on  internal  activities,  so  as 


638  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

most  efficiently  to  subserve  tlie  lives  of  eitizeus,  we  find  tliem 
to  Le  these.  A  corporate  action  subordinating  individual  ac- 
tions by  uniting  them  in  joint  etfort,  is  no  longer  requisite. 
Contrariwise,  such  corporate  action  as  remains  has  for  its 
end  to  guard  individual  actions  against  all  interferences  not 
necessarily  entailed  by  mutual  limitations:  the  type  of  societ}? 
in  which  this  function  is  best  discharged,  being  that  which 
nmst  survive,  since  it  is  that  of  which  the  members  will  most 
prosper.  Excluding,  as  the  requirements  of  the  industrial 
type  do,  a  despotic  controlling  agency,  they  imj^ly,  as  the 
only  congruous  agency  for  achieving  such  corporate  action  as 
is  needed,  one  formed  of  re})resentatives  who  serve  to  express 
the  aggregate  will.  The  function  of  this  controlling  agency, 
generally  defined  as  that  of  administering  justice,  is  more 
specially  defined  as  that  of  seeing  that  each  citizen  gains 
neither  more  nor  less  of  benefit  than  his  activities  normally 
bring;  and  there  is  thus  excluded  all  public  action  involving 
any  artificial  distribution  of  benefits.  The  regime  of  status 
proper  to  militancy  having  disappeared,  the  regime  of  contract 
which  replaces  it  has  to  be  universally  enforced;  and  this 
negatives  interferences  between  efforts  and  results  by  arbi- 
trary apportionment.  Otherwise  regarded,  the  industrial 
type  is  distinguished  from  the  militant  type  as  being  not  both 
positively  regulative  and  negatively  regulative,  but  as  being 
negatively  regulative  only.  With  this  restricted  sphere  for 
corporate  action  comes  an  increased  sphere  for  ijidividual 
action;  and  from  that  voluntary  cooperation  wliich  is  the 
fundamental  principle  of  tlie  type,  arise  multitudinons  pri- 
vate combinations,  akin  in  their  structures  to  the  public  com- 
bination of  the  society  Avhich  includes  them.  Indirectly  it 
results  that  a  society  of  the  industrial  type  is  distinguished 
by  plasticity;  and  also  that  it  tends  to  lose  its  economic  au- 
tonomy, and  to  coalesce  with  adjacent  societies. 

The  question  next  considered  was,  whetlier  tlicse  traits  of 
the  industrial  ty])e  as  arrived  at  by  dednction  are  inductively 
verified ;   and  we  f(tuu<l  tliat  iu  actual  societies  tliev  are  visible 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  039 

more  or  less  clearly  in  proportion  as  industrialism  is  more  or 
less  developed.  Glancing  at  those  small  groups  of  uncultured 
people  who,  wholly  unwarlike,  display  the  industrial  type  in 
its  rudimentary  form,  we  went  on  to  compare  the  structures 
of  European  nations  at  large  in  early  days  of  chronic  mili- 
tancy, with  their  structures  in  modern  days  characterized  by 
progressing  industrialism;  and  we  saw  the  dili'erences  to  be 
of  the  kind  imj)lied.  We  next  compared  two  of  these  socie- 
ties, France  and  England,  which  were  once  in  kindred  states, 
but  of  which  the  one  has  had  its  industrial  life  much  more 
repressed  by  its  militant  life  than  the  other;  and  it  became 
manifest  that  the  contrasts  which,  age  after  age,  arose  be- 
tween their  institutions,  were  such  as  answer  to  the  hypo- 
thesis. Lastly,  limiting  ourselves  to  England  itself,  and  first 
noting  how  recession  from  such  traits  of  the  industrial  t^qje 
as  had  shown  themselves,  occurred  during  a  long  war-period, 
we  observed  how,  during  the  subsequent  long  period  of  peace 
beginning  in  1815,  there  were  numerous  and  decided  ap- 
proaches to  that  social  structure  which  we  concluded  must 
accompany  developed  industrialism. 

We  then  inquired  what  type'of  individual  nature  accom- 
panies the  industrial  type  of  societ}'-;  w'itli  the  view  of  seeing 
whether,  from  the  character  of  the  unit  as  well  as  from  the 
character  of  the  aggregate,  confirmation  is  to  be  derived. 
Certain  uncultured  peoples  whose  lives  are  ]iassed  in  peaceful 
occupations,  proved  to  be  distinguished  by  independence, 
resistance  to  coercion,  honesty,  truthfulness,  forgiveness, 
kindness.  On  contrasting  the  characters  of  our  ancestors 
during  more  warlike  perit)ds  with  our  own  characters,  we  see 
that,  with  an  increasing  ratio  of  industrialism  to  militancy^ 
have  come  a  gi-owing  independence,  a  less-marked  loyalty,  a 
smaller  faith  in  governments,  and  a  more  (qualified  jiatriot- 
ism;  and  while,  by  enterprising  action,  by  diminished  faith 
in  authority,  by  resistance  to  irresponsible  power,  there  has 
been  shown  a  strengthening  assertion  of  individuality,  there 
has  accompanied  it  a  growing  respect  for  the  individualities  of 


040  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

others,  as  is  implied  by  the  diminution  of  aggressions  upon 
them  and  the  multiplication  of  efforts  for  their  welfare. 

To  prevent  misapprehension  it  seems  needful,  before  clos- 
ing, to  explain  that  these  traits  are  to  be  regarded  less  as  the 
immediate  results  of  industrialism  than  as  the  remote  results 
of  non-militaucv.  It  is  not  so  much  that  a  social  life  passed 
in  peaceful  occupations  is  positively  moralizing,  as  that  a 
social  life  passed  in  war  is  positively  demoralizing.  Sacrifice 
of  others  to  self  is  in  the  one  incidental  only;  while  in  the 
other  it  is  necessary.  Such  aggTessive  egoism  as  accom})anies 
the  industrial  life  isextrinsic;  whereas  theaggressive  egoismof 
the  militant  life  is  intrinsic.  Though  generally  unsympa- 
thetic, the  exchange  of  services  under  agreement  is  now,  to 
a  considerable  extent,  and  may  be  wholly,  carried  on  with 
a  due  regard  to  the  claims  of  others — may  be  constantly  ac- 
companied by  a  sense  of  benefit  given  as  well  as  benefit  re- 
ceived; but  the  slaying  of  antagonists,  the  burning  of  their 
houses,  the  appropriation  of  their  territory,  cannot  but  be 
accompanied  by  vivid  consciousness  of  injury  done  them, 
and  a  consequent  brutalizing  effect  on  the  feelings — an  effect 
wrought,  not  on  soldiers  only,  but  on  those  who  employ  them 
and  contemplate  their  deeds  with  pleasure.  The*  last  form  of 
social  life,  therefore,  inevitably  deadens  the  sympathies  and 
generates  a  state  of  mind  which  prompts  crimes  of  trespass; 
while  the  first  form,  allowing  the  sympathies  free  play  if  it 
does  not  directly  exercise  them,  favours  the  growth  of  altru- 
istic sentiments  and  the  resulting  virtues. 

Note. — This  reference  to  the  natural  genesis  of  a  hijifher  moral  nature, 
recalls  a  controversy  some  time  since  carried  on.  In  a  "Symposium" 
published  in  the  Nineteenth  Cevtury  for  April  and  ]\Iay,  1877,  was  dis- 
cussed "the  influence  upon  morality  of  a  decline  in  religious  belief  :  "  the 
question  eventually  i-aised  being  whether  morality  can  exist  without  re- 
ligion. Not  much  difficulty  in  answering  this  question  will  be  felt  by 
those  who,  from  the  conduct  of  the  rude  tribes  described  in  this  chapter, 
turn  to  that  of  Europeans  during  a  great  part  of  the  Christian  era;  with 
its  innumerable  and  immeasurable  public  and  private  atrocities,  its  bloody 
aggressive  wars,  its  ceaseless  family-vendettas,  its  bandit  barons  and  fight- 


THE  mDUSTRIAL  TYPE  OF  SOCIETY.  641 

ing  bishops,  its  massacres,  political  and  religious,  its  torturings  and  burn- 
ings, its  all-pervading  crime  from  the  assassinations  of  and  by  kings 
down  to  the  lyings  and  petty  thefts  of  slaves  and  serfs.  Nor  do  the  con- 
trasts between  our  own  conduct  at  the  present  time  and  the  conduct  of 
these  so-called  savages,  leave  us  in  doubt  concerning  the  right  answer. 
When,  after  reading  police  reports,  criminal  assize  proceedings,  accounts 
of  fraudulent  bankruptcies,  &c.,  which  in  our  journals  accompany  adver- 
tisements of  sermons  and  reports  of  religious  meetings,  we  learn  that  the 
"  amiable  "  Bodo  and  Dhimals,  who  are  so  "  honest  and  truthful,"  "  have 
no  word  for  God,  for  soul,  for  heaven,  for  hell  "  (though  they  have  an- 
cestor-worship and  some  derivative  beliefs),  we  find  ourselves  unable  to 
recognize  the  alleged  connexion.  If,  side  by  side  with  narratives  of  bank- 
frauds,  railway-jobbings,  turf-chicaneries,  &c.,  among  people  who  are  anx- 
ious that  the  House  of  Commons  should  preserve  its  theism  untainted,  we 
place  descriptions  of  the  "  fascinating  "  Lepchas,  who  are  so  "  wonderfully 
honest,"  but  who  "  profess  no  religion,  though  acknowledging  the  exist- 
ence of  good  and  bad  spirits  "  (to  the  last  of  whom  only  they  pay  any 
attention),  we  do  not  see  our  way  to  accepting  the  dogma  which  our  theo- 
logians think  so  obviously  true ;  nor  will  acceptance  of  it  be  made  easier 
when  we  add  the  description  of  the  conscientious  Santal,  who  "  never 
thinks  of  making  money  by  a  stranger,"  and  "  feels  pained  if  payment  is 
pressed  upon  him  "  for  food  offered ;  but  concerning  whom  we  are  told 
that  "of  a  supreme  and  beneficent  God  the  Santal  has  no  conception." 
Admission  of  the  doctrine  that  right  conduct  depends  on  theological  con- 
viction, becomes  difficult  on  reading  that  the  Veddahs  who  are  "almost 
devoid  of  any  sentirhent  of  religion  "  and  have  no  idea  "of  a  Supreme 
Being,"  nevertheless  "  think  it  perfectly  inconceivable  that  any  person 
should  ever  take  that  which  does  not  belong  to  him,  or  strike  his  fellow, 
or  say  anything  that  is  untrue."  After  finding  that  among  the  select  of 
the  select  who  profess  our  established  creed,  the  standard  of  truthfulness  is 
such  that  the  statement  of  a  minister  concerning  cabinet  transactions  is 
distinctly  falsified  by  the  statement  of  a  seceding  minister:  and  after 
then  recalling  the  marvellous  veracity  of  these  godless  Bodo  and  Dhimals, 
Lepchas,  and  other  peaceful  tribes  having  kindred  beliefs,  going  to  such 
extent  that  an  imputation  of  falsehood  is  enough  to  make  one  of  the  IIos 
destroy  himself ;  we  fail  to  see  that  in  the  absence  of  a  theistic  belief 
there  can  be  no  regard  for  truth.  When,  in  a  weekly  journal  specially 
representing  the  university  culture  shared  in  by  our  priests,  we  find  a 
lament  over  the  moral  degradation  shown  by  our  treatment  of  the  Boers 
— when  we  are  held  degraded  because  we  have  not  slaughtered  them  for 
successfully  resisting  our  trespasses — when  we  see  that  the  "  sacred  duty 
of  blood  revenge,"  which  the  cannibal  savage  insists  upon,  is  insisted  upon 
by  those  to  wliom  tlie  Cliristinn  reli^'ion  was  daily  taught  throughout  their 
education;  and  when,  from  <-(iiitfiiiplating  this  fact,  we  pass  to  the  fact 


042  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

that  the  unreligious  Lepchas  "  are  singularly  forgiving  of  injuries,"  the  as- 
sumed relation  between  humanity  and  theism  appears  anytliing  but  con- 
gruous with  the  evidence.  If,  with  the  ambitions  of  our  church-going 
citizens,  who  (not  always  in  very  honourable  ways)  strive  to  get  fortunes 
that  they  may  make  great  displays,  and  gratify  themselves  by  thinking 
that  at  death  they  will  "  cut  up  well,"  we  compare  the  ambitions  of  the 
Arafuras,  among  whom  wealth  is  desired  that  its  possessor  may  pay  the 
debts  of  poorer  men  and  settle  differences,  we  are  obliged  to  reject  the 
assumption  that  "  brotherly  love  "  can  exist  only  as  a  consequence  of  di- 
vine injunctions,  with  promised  rewards  and  threatened  punishments; 
for  of  these  Arafuras  we  read  that — 

"  Of  the  immorLulity  of  the  soul  tlioy  have  not  the  least  conception. 
To  all  my  inquiries  on  the  subject  they  answered,  '  No  Arafura  has  ever 
returned  to  us  after  death,  therefore  we  know  nothing  of  a  future  state, 
and  this  is  the  first  time  we  have  heard  of  it.'  Their  idea  was,  when  you 
are  dead  there  is  an  end  of  you.  Neither  have  they  any  notion  of  the 
ci'eation  of  the  world.  They  only  answered,  '  None  of  us  were  aware  of 
this,  we  have  never  heard  anything  about  it,  and  therefore  do  not  know 
who  has  done  it  all.'  " 

The  truth  disclosed  by  the  facts  is  that,  so  far  as  men's  moral  states 
are  concerned,  theory  is  almost  nothing  and  practice  is  almost  everything. 
No  matter  how  high  their  nominal  creed,  nations  given  to  political  bur- 
glaries to  get  *'  scientific  frontiers,"  and  the  like,  will  have  among  their 
members  many  who  '"annex"  other's  goods  for  their  own  convenience; 
and  with  the  organized  crime  of  aggressive  war,  will  go  criminality  in 
the  behaviour  of  one  citizen  to  another.  Conversely,  as  these  unculti- 
vated tribes  prove,  no  matter  how  devoid  they  are  of  religious  beliefs, 
those  who,  generation  after  generation  remaining  unmolested,  inflict  no 
injuries  upon  others,  have  their  altruistic  sentiments  fostered  by  the 
sympathetic  intercourse  of  a  peaceful  daily  life,  and  display  the  result- 
ing virtues.  We  need  teaching  that  it  is  impossible  to  join  injustice  and 
brutality  abroad  with  justice  and  humanity  at  home.  What  a  pity  these 
Heathens  cannot  be  induced  to  send  missionaries  among  the  Christians  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

POLITICAL    RETROSPECT    AKD    PROSPECT, 

§  576.  Ill  the  foregomg  chapters  little  has  been  said  con- 
cerning the  doctrine  of  Evolution  at  large,  as  re-illustrated 
by  political  evolution ;  though  doubtless  the  observant  reader 
has  occasionally  noted  how  the  transformations  described 
conform  to  the  general  law  of  transformation.  Here,  in 
summing  up,  it  will  be  convenient  briefly  to  indicate  their 
conformity.  Already  in  Part  II,  when  treating  of  Social 
Growth,  Social  Structures,  and  Social  Functions,  the  out- 
lines of  this  correspondence  were  exhibited ;  but  the  materials 
for  exemplifying  it  in  a  more  special  way,  which  have  been 
brought  together  in  this  Part,  may  fitly  be  utilized  to  empha- 
size afresh  a  truth  not  yet  commonly  admitted. 

That  under  its  primary  aspect  political  development  is  a 
process  of  integration,  is  clear.  By  it  individuals  originally 
separate  are  united  into  a  whole;  and  the  union  of  them  into 
a  whole  is  variously  shown.  In  the  earliest  stages  the  groups 
of  men  are  small,  they  are  loose,  they  are  not  unified  by 
subordination  to  a  centre.  But  with  political  progress  comes 
the  compounding,  re-compounding,  and  re-re-compounding 
of  groups  until  great  nations  are  produced.  ^Moreover,  with 
that  settled  life  and  agricultural  dev('lo]mient  accompanying 
political  progress,  there  is  not  only  a  formation  of  societies 
covering  wider  areas,  but  an  increasing  density  of  their  popu- 
lations. Further,  the  loose  aggregation  of  savages  passes  into 
100  ^643  ^ 


044-  POLITICAL   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

the  coherent  coimexiou  of  eitizeus;  at  one  stage  eoercively 
bound  to  one  another  and  to  their  localities  by  famih'-ties 
and  class-ties,  and  at  a  later  stage  voluntarily  bound  together 
by  their  mutually-dependent  occupations.  Once  more,  there 
is  that  merging  of  individual  wills  in  a  governmental  will, 
which  reduces  a  society,  as  it  reduces  an  army,  to  a  consoli- 
dated body. 

An  increase  of  heterogeneity  at  the  same  time  goes  on  in 
many  ways.  Everywhere  the  horde,  when  its  members  co- 
operate for  defence  or  offence,  begins  to  differentiate  into  a 
predominant  man,  a  superior  few,  and  an  inferior  many. 
With  that  massing  of  groups  which  war  effects,  there  grow 
out  of  these,  head  chief,  subordinate  chiefs,  and  warriors; 
and  at  higher  stages  of  integration,  kings,  nobles,  and  peo- 
ple: each  of  the  two  great  social  strata  presently  becoming 
differentiated  within  itself.  When  small  societies  have  been 
united,  the  respective  triune  governing  agencies  of  tluMu 
grow  unlike:  the  local  political  assemblies  falling  into  subor- 
dination to  a  central  political  assembly.  Though,  for  a  time, 
thecentral  onecontinucs  to  bcconstitutcd  afterthe  same  man- 
ner as  the  local  ones,  it  gradually  diverges  in  character  by 
loss  of  its  popular  element.  AVliile  these  local  and  central 
bodies  are  becoming  contrasted  in  their  powers  and  structures, 
they  are  severally  becoming  differentiated  in  another  way. 
Originally  each  is  at  once  military, political,  and  judicial;  but 
by  and  by  the  assembly  for  judicial  business,  no  longer  armed, 
ceases  to  be  like  the  ])olitico-military  assembly;  and  the 
politico-military  assembly  eventually  gives  origin  to  a  con- 
sultative body,  the  members  of  which,  when  meeting  for 
political  deliberation,  come  unarmed.  Within  each  of  these 
divisions,  again,  kindred  changes  subsequently  occur.  AVhile 
themselves  assuming  more  specialized  forms,  local  judicial 
agencies  fall  under  the  control  of  a  central  judicial  agency; 
and  the  centi-al  judicial  agency,  which  has  separated  from  the 
original  consultative  body,  subdivides  into  parts  or  courts 
which  take  unlike  kinds  of  business.     The  central  political 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     645 

body,  too,  where  its  powers  do  not  disappear  by  absorption  in 
those  of  the  supreme  head,  tends  to  complicate;  as  in  our 
own  case  by  the  differentiation  of  a  privy  council  from  the 
original  consultative  body,  and  again  by  the  differentiation  of 
a  cabinet  from  the  privy  council :  accompanied,  in  the  other 
direction,  by  division  of  the  consultative  body  into  elective 
and  non-elective  parts.  While  these  metamorphoses -are  go- 
ing on,  the  separation  of  the  three  organizations,  legislative, 
judicial,  and  executive,  progresses.  Moreover,  with  progress 
in  these  major  political  changes  goes  that  progress  in  minor 
political  changes  which,  out  of  family-governments  and  clan- 
governments,  evolves  such  governments  as  those  of  the 
tything,  the  gild,  and  the  municipality.  Thus  in  all  direc- 
tions from  primitive  simplicity  there  is  produced  ultimate 
complexity,  through  modifications  upon  modifications. 

With  this  advance  from  small  incoherent  social  aggregates 
to  gTcat  coherent  ones,  which,  while  becoming  integrated 
pass  from  uniformity  to  multiformity,  there  goes  an  advance 
from  indefiniteness  of  political  organization  to  definiteness  of 
political  organization.  Save  inherited  ideas  and  usages, 
nothing  is  fixed  in  the  primitive  horde.  But  the  differen- 
tiations above  described,  severally  beginning  vaguely,  gTOw 
in  their  turns  gradually  more  marked.  Class-divisions,  ab- 
sent at  first  and  afterwards  undecided,  eventually  acquire 
great  distinctness:  slaves,  serfs,  freemen,  nobles,  king,  be- 
come separated,  often  by  impassable  barriers,  and  their  posi- 
tions shown  by  mutilations,  badges,  dresses,  tV:c.  Powers  and 
obligations  which  were  once  diffused  are  parted  oft'  and  rig- 
orously maintained.  The  various  parts  of  the  political  ma- 
chinery come  to  be  severally  more  and  more  restricted  in 
their  ranges  of  duties;  and  usage,  age  by  age  accumulating 
precedents,  brings  every  kind  of  official  action  within  pre- 
scribed bounds.  This  increase  of  definiteness  is  everywhere 
well  shown  by  the  development  of  laws.  Beginning  as  in- 
herited sacred  injunctions  briefly  expressed,  these  have  to  be 
a])i)Hed  after  some  prescribed  method,  and  their  meanings  in 


e4:Q  POLITICAL  IXSTITUTIOXS. 

relation  to  particular  eases  made  clear.  Kulos  of  procedure 
become  step  by  step  detailed  and  formal,  while  iuterprctations 
change  the  general  command  into  specialized  commands  to 
meet  incidental  circumstances ;  and  gradually  there  grows  up 
a  legal  system  everywhere  precise  and  fixed.  How  pro- 
nounced is  this  tendency  is  interestingly  shown  in  our  system 
of  Equity,  which,  arising  to  qualify  the  unduly  defined  and 
rigid  applications  of  Law,  itself  slowly  multiplied  its  tech- 
nicalities until  it  grew  equally  defined  and  rigid. 

To  meet  an  obvious  criticism  it  must  be  added  that  these 
changes  from  societies  which  are  small,  loose,  uniform,  and 
vague  in  structure,  to  societies  which  are  large,  'compact, 
multiform,  and  distinct  in  structure,  present  varieties  of 
characters  under  varieties  of  conditions,  and  alter  as  the 
conditions  alter.  Different  parts  of  a  society  display  the 
transformation,  according  as  the  society's  activities  are  of 
one  or  other  kind.  Chronic  war  generates  a  compulsory  co- 
hesion, and  produces  an  ever-greater  heterogeneity  and  defi- 
niteness  in  that  controlling  organization  by  which  unity  of 
action  is  secured;  while  that  part  of  the  organization  which 
carries  on  production  and  distribution,  exhibits  these  traits  of 
evolution  in  a  relatively  small  degree.  Conversely,  when 
joint  action  of  the  society  against  other  societies  decreases, 
the  traits  of  the  structure  developed  for  carrying  it  on  begin 
to  fade;  while  the  traits  of  the  structure  for  carrying  on  pro- 
duction and  distribution  become  more  decided:  the  increas- 
ing cohesion,  heterogeneity,  and  definiteness,  begin  now  tO  be 
shown  throughout  the  industrial  organization.  Hence  the 
phenomena  become  complicated  by  a  simultaneous  evolution 
of  one  part  of  the  social  organization  and  dissolution  of 
another  part — a  mingling  of  changes  well  illustrated  in  our 
own  society. 

§  577.  AVitli  this  general  conception  before  us,  which, 
without  more  detailed  recajiitulation  of  the  conclusions 
reached,  will  sufiiciently  recall  them,  we  may  turn  from 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     647 

retrospect  to  prospect;  and  ask  through  what  phases  political 
evolution  is  likely  hereafter  to  pass. 

Such  speculations  concerning  higher  political  types  as  we 
may  allow  ourselves,  must  be  taken  with  the  understanding 
that  such  types  are  not  likely  to  become  universal.  As  in  the 
past  so  in  the  future,  local  circumstances  must  be  influential 
in  determining  governmental  arrangements;  since  these  de- 
pend in  large  measure  on  the  modes  of  life  which  the  climate, 
soil,  flora,  and  fauna,  necessitate.  In  regions  like  those  of 
Central  Asia,  incapable  of  supporting  considerable  popula- 
tions, there  are  likely  to  survive  wandering  hordes  under 
simple  forms  of  control.  Large  areas  such  as  parts  of  Africa 
present,  which  prove  fatal  to  the  higher  races  of  men,  and 
the  steaming  atmospheres  of  which  cause  enervation,  may 
continue  to  be  inhabited  by  lower  races  of  men,  subject  to 
political  arrangements  adapted  to  them.  And  in  conditions 
such  as  those  furnished  by  small  Pacific  Islands,  mere  de- 
ficiency of  numbers  must  negative  the  forms  of  government 
which  become  alike  needful  and  possible  in  large  nations. 
Recognizing  the  fact  that  with  social  organisms  as  with  indi- 
vidual organisms,  the  evolution  of  superior  types  does  not 
entail  the  extinction  of  all  inferior  ones,  but  leaves  many  of 
these  to  survive  in  habitats  not  available  by  the  superior,  we 
may  here  restrict  ourselves  to  the  inquiry — What  are  likely 
to  be  the  forms  of  political  organization  and  action  in  societies 
that  are  favourably  circumstanced  for  carrying  social  evolu- 
tion to  its  highest  stage? 

Of  course  deductions  respecting  the  future  must  be  drawn 
from  inductions  furnished  by  the  past.  AVe  must  assume 
that  hereafter  social  evolution  will  conform  to  the  same 
principles  as  heretofore.  Causes  which  have  everywhere 
produced  certain  effects  must,  if  they  continue  at  work,  be 
expected  to  produce  further  effects  of  like  kinds.  If  we  see 
that  political  transformations  which  have  arisen  under  cer- 
tain conditions,  admit  of  being  carried  further  in  the  same 
directions,  we  must  conclude  that  they  will  be  carried  further 


G4:8  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

if  the  conditions  are  maintained;  and  that  they  will  go  on 
nntil  they  reach  limits  beyond  which  there  is  no  seojK*  for 
them. 

Xot  indeed  that  any  trustworthy  forecast  can  he  made  i-on- 
cerning  proxinuitc  changes.  All  that  has  gone  before  nnites 
to  prove  that  political  institntions,  fundamentally  determined 
in  their  forms  by  the  prcnlominance  of  one  or  other  of  the 
antagonist  modes  of  social  action,  the  militant  and  the  indns- 
trial,  will  be  moulded  in  this  way  or  in  that  way  according  as 
there  is  frequent  war  or  habitual  peace.  Hence  we  must  in- 
fer that  througliout*a})proaching  periods,  everything  will  de- 
pend on  the  courses  which  societies  happen  to  take  in  their 
behaviour  to  one  another — courses  which  cannot  be  predicted. 
On  the  one  hand,  in  the  present  state  of  armed  preparation 
throughout  Europe,  an  untoward  accident  may  l.iring  about 
wars  which,  lasting  perha])s  for  a  generation,  will  re-develop 
the  coercive  forms  of  political  control.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  long  peace  is  likely  to  be  accom])anie(l  by  so  vast  an  increase 
of  manufacturing  and  commercial  activity,  with  accompany- 
ing growth  of  tlie  a))i)Vfi])riate  ]>olitical  structures  within  each 
nation,  and  strengthening  of  those  ties  between  nations  which 
mutual  dependence  gen(M"ates,thathostilitieswill  be  moreand 
more  resisted  and  the  organization  adapted  for  the  carrying 
them  on  will  decay. 

Leaving,  however,  the  question — What  are  likely  to  be 
the  proximate  political  changes  in  the  most  advanced  nations? 
and  inferring  from  the  changes  which  civilization  has  thus  far 
wrought  out,  that  at  some  time,  more  or  less  distant,  the  in- 
dustrial typo  will  become  permanently  established,  let  us  now 
ask — Wliat  is  to  be  the  ultimate  political  rvtpmcf 

%  57s.  Having  so  recently  conteniphitc^d  at  length  the  po- 
litical traits  of  the  industrial  \y\^o  as  inferable  a  priori,  and 
as  partially  exemplified  n  pof^irn'on'  in  societies  most  favour- 
ably circumstanced  for  evolving  tliem,  there  remains  only  to 
present  these  under  a  unite<l  and  nicire  cducrete  form,  with 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AXD  PROSPECT.     649 

some  dependent  ones  which  have  not  been  indicated.  We 
wiJl  ghuice  first  at  the  implied  political  structures,  and  next 
at  the  implied  political  functions. 

What  forms  of  governmental  organization  must  be  the 
outcome  of  voluntarj-  cooperation  carried  to  its  limits  We 
have  already  seen  that  in  the  absence  of  those  appliances  for 
coercion  which  accompany  the  militant  type,  whatever  legis- 
lative and  administrative  structures  exist,  must  be,  in  general 
and  in  detail,  of  directly  or  indirectly  representative  origin. 
The  presence  in  them  of  functionaries  not  deriving  their 
powers  from  the  aggregate  will,  and  not  changeable  by  the 
aggregate  will,  would  imply  partial  continuance  of  that  regime 
of  status  which  the  regime  of  contract  has,  by  the  hypothesis, 
entirely  replaced.  But  assuming  the  exclusion  of  all  irre- 
sponsible agents,  what  particvilar  structures  will  best  serve 
to  manifest  and  execute  the  aggregate  will  ?  This  is  a  ques- 
tion to  which  only  approximate  answers  can  be  given.  There 
are  various  possible  organizations  through  which  the  general 
consensus  of  feeling  and  opinion  may  display  itself  and  issue 
in  action;  and  it  is  very  much  a  question  of  convenience, 
rather  than  of  principle,  which  of  these  shall  be  adopted.  Let 
us  consider  some  of  their  varieties. 

The  representatives  constituting  the  central  legislature 
may  form  one  body  or  they  may  form  two.  If  there  is  but 
one,  it  may  consist  of  men  directly  elected  by  all  qualified 
citizens;  or  its  members  may  be  elected  by  local  bodies  which 
have  themselves  arisen  by  direct  election;  or  it  may  include 
members  some  of  whom  are  elect(Hl  in  the  one  way  and  some 
in  the  other.  If  there  are  two  chandKn'S,  the  lower  one  may 
arise  in  the  first  of  the  three  ways  named;  while  the  second 
arises  in  one  of  several  ways.  It  may  consist  of  members 
chosen  by  local  representative  bodies;  or  it  may  be  chosen 
by  the  lower  chamber  out  of  its  own  number.  Its  members 
may  cither  liave  no  test  of  eligibility,  or  they  may  be  required 
to  have  special  qualifications:  experience  in  administration, 
for  example.  Then  besides  these  various  forms  of  the 


(550  rOLITICAL   IXSTITUTIOXS. 

legislature,  there  are  the  various  modes  in  which  it  may  be 
partially  or  wholly  replaced.  Entire  dissolution  and  re- 
election of  one  body  or  of  both  bodies  may  occur  at  intervals, 
either  the  same  for  the  two  or  diiferent  for  the  two,  and  either 
simultaneously  or  otherwise;  or  the  higher  body,  though 
representative,  may  be  permanent,  while  the  lower  is  change- 
able; or  the  changing  of  one  or  both,  at  given  intervals, 
may  be  partial  instead  of  complete — a  third  or  a  fourth  may 
vacate  their  seats  annually  or  biennially,  and  may  or  may 
not  be  eligible  for  re-election.  So,  too,  there  are  various 

modes  by  which  the  executive  may  originate  consistently 
with  the  representative  principle.  It  may  be  simple  or  it 
may  be  compound;  and  if  compound,  the  members  of  it  may 
be  changeable  separately  or  altogether.  The  political  head 
may  be  elected  directly  by  the  whole  community,  or  by  its 
local  governing  bodies,  or  by  one  or  by  both  of  its  central  rep- 
resentative bodies;  and  may  be  so  elected  for  a  term  or  for 
life.  His  assistants  or  ministers  may  be  chosen  by  himself; 
or  he  may  choose  one  who  chooses  the  rest ;  or  they  may  be 
chosen  separately  or  bodily  by  one  or  other  legislature,  or  by 
the  two  united.  ^\.nd  the  members  of  the  ministry  may 
compose  a  group  apart  from  both  chambers,  or  may  be  mem- 
bers of  one  or  the  other. 

Concerning  these,  and  many  other  possible  arrangements 
which  may  be  conceived  as  arising  by  modification  and  com- 
plication of  them  (all  apparently  congruous  with  the  require- 
ment that  the  making  and  administration  of  laws  shall  con- 
form to  public  opinion)  the  choice  is  to  be  guided  mainly  by 
regard  for  simplicity  and  facility  of  working.  But  it  seems 
likely  that  hereafter,  as  heretofore,  the  details  of  constitu- 
tional forms  in  each  society,  will  not  be  determined  on  a 
priori  grounds,  or  will  be  but  partially  so  determined.  We 
may  conclude  that  they  will  be  determined  in  large  measure 
by  the  antecedents  of  the  society;  and  that  between  societies 
of  the  industrial  type,  there  will  be  differences  of  political 
organization  consequent  on  genealogical  differences.     Recog- 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AXD  PROSPECT.     651 

nizing  the  analogies  furnished  by  individual  organizations, 
which  everywhere  show  us  that  structures  evolved  during 
the  earlier  stages  of  a  type  for  functions  then  requisite,  usu- 
ally do  not  disappear  at  later  stages,  but  become  re-moulded 
in  adaptation  to  functions  more  or  less  different;  we  may 
suspect  that  the  political  institutions  appropriate  to  the  in- 
dustrial type,  will,  in  each  society,  continue  to  bear  traces  of 
the  earlier  political  institutions  evolved  for  other  purposes;  as 
we  see  that  even  now  the  new  societies  growing  up  in  colonies, 
tend  thus  to  preserve  marks  of  earlier  stages  passed  through 
by  ancestral  societies.  Hence  we  may  infer  that  societies 
which,  in  the  future,  have  alike  become  completely  indus- 
trial, will  not  present  identical  political  forms;  but  that  to 
the  various  possible  foi*ms  appropriate  to  the  type,  they  will 
present  approximations  determined  partly  by  their  own  struc- 
tures in  the  past  and  partly  by  the  structures  of  the  societies 
from  which  they  have  been  derived.  Recognizing  this  prob- 
ability, let  us  now  ask  by  what  changes  our  own  political 
constitution  may  be  brought  into  congruity  with  the  require- 
ments. 

Though  there  are  some  who  contend  that  a  single  body  of 
representatives  is  sufficient  for  the  legislative  needs  of  a  free 
nation,  yet  the  reasons  above  given  warrant  the  suspicion 
that  the  habitual  duality  of  legislatures,  of  which  the  rudi- 
ments are  traceable  in  the  earliest  political  differentiation,  is 
not  likely  to  be  entirely  lost  in  the  future.  That  spontaneous 
division  of  the  prinutive  group  into  the  distinguished  few  and 
the  undistinguished  many,  both  of  which  take  part  in  deter- 
mining the  actions  of  the  group — that  division  which,  with 
reviving  power  of  the  undistinguished  many,  reappears  when 
there  is  formed  a  body  representing  it,  which  cooperates  with 
the  body  formed  of  the  distinguished  few  in  deciding  on  na- 
tional affairs,  appears  likely  to  continue.  Assuming  that  as 
a  matter  of  course  two  legislative  bodies,  if  they  exist  here- 
after, must  both  arise  by  representation,  direct  or  indirect, 
it  seems  probable  that  an  upper  and  a  lower  chamber  may 


652  POLITICAL   LNSTITUTIONS. 

continue  to  display  a  contrast  in  some  degree  analogous  to 
that  which  they  have  displayed  thus  far.  For  however  great 
the  degree  of  evolution  reached  by  an  industrial  society,  it 
cannot  abolish  the  distinction  between  the  superior  and  the 
inferior — the  regulators  and  the  regulated.  AVhatcver  ar- 
rangements for  carrying  on  industry  may  in  times  to  come  be 
established,  must  leave  outstanding  the  difference  between 
those  whose  characters  and  abilities  raise  them  to  the  higher 
positions,  and  those  who  remain  in  the  lower.  Even  should 
all  kinds  of  production  and  distribution  be  eventually  carried 
on  by  bodies  of  cooperators,  as  a  few  are  now  to  some  extent, 
such  bodies  must  still  have  their  appointed  heads  and  com- 
mittees of  managers.  Either  from  an  electorate  constituted 
not,  of  course,  of  a  permanently-privileged  class,  but  of  a 
class  including  all  heads  of  industrial  organizations,  or  from 
an  electorate  otherwise  composed  of  all  persons  occupied  in 
administration,  a  senate  may  perhaps  eventually  be  formed 
consisting  of  the  representatives  of  directing  persons  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  representatives  of  persons  directed.  Of 
course  in  the  general  government,  as  in  the  government  of 
each  industrial  body,  the  representatives  of  the  class  regu- 
lated must  be  ultimately  supreme;  but  there  is  reason  for 
thinking  that  the  representatives  of  the  regulating  class  might 
with  advantage  exercise  a  r(>straining  power.  Evidently  the 
aspect  of  any  law  differs  according  as  it  is  looked  at  from 
above  or  from  below — by  those  accustomed  to  rule  or  by 
those  accustomed  to  be  ruled.  The  two  aspects  require  to  be 
coordinated.  Without  assuming  that  differences  between  the 
interests  of  these  bodies  will,  to  the  last,  make  needful  dif- 
ferent representations  of  them,  it  may  reasonably  be  con- 
cluded that  the  higher,  experienced  in  administration,  may 
with  advantage  bring  its  judgments  to  bear  in  qindifving  the 
judgments  of  the  lower,  less  conversant  with  affairs;  and  that 
social  needs  are  likely  to  be  most  effectually  met  by  laws  is- 
suing from  their  joint  deliberations.  Far  from  suggesting  an 
ultimate  unification  of  the  two  Icgislativo  bodies,  the  facts 


POLITICAL   RETROSPECT   AXD    PR(JHPECT.  G53 

of  evolution,  eA'erywliere  showing  advance  in  specialization, 
suggest  rather  that  one  or  both  of  such  two  bodies,  now 
characterizing  deA'eloped  political  organizations,  will  further 
differentiate.  Indeed  we  have  at  the  present  moment  indi- 
cations that  such  a  change  is  likely  to  take  place  in  our  own 
House  of  Commons.  To  the  objection  that  the  duality  of 
a  legislative  body  impedes  the  making  of  laws,  the  reply  is 
that  a  considerable  amount  of  hindrance  to  change  is  desir- 
able.  Even  as  it  is  now  among  ourselves,  immense  mischiefs 
are  done  by  ill-considered  legislation ;  and  any  change  which 
should  further  facilitate  legislation  would  increase  such  mis- 
chiefs. 

Concerning  the  ultimate  executive  agency,  it  appears  to  be 
an  unavoidable  inference  that  it  must  become,  in  some  way 
or  other,  elective;  since  hereditary  political  headship  is  a 
trait  of  the  developed  militant  type,  and  forms  a  part  of  that 
regime  of  status  which  is  excluded  by  the  hypothesis. 
Guided  by  such  evidence  as  existing  advanced  societies  af- 
ford us,  we  may  infer  that  the  highest  State-office,  in  what- 
ever way  filled,  will  continue  to  decline  in  importance;  and 
that  the  functions  to  be  discharged  by  its  occupant  will  be- 
come more  and  more  automatic.  There  requires  an  instru- 
mentality having  certain  traits  which  we  see  in  our  own 
executive,  joined  with  (certain  traits  which  we  see  in  the 
executive  of  tlie  United  States.  On  tlie  one  hand,  it  is  need- 
ful that  tlic  men  who  have  to  carry  out  the  will  of  the  ma- 
jority as  expressed  through  the  legislature,  should  be  remov- 
able at  pleasure;  so  that  tlicre  may  be  maintained  the  need- 
ful subordination  of  their  policy  to  j)ubli('  opinion.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  needful  that  dis])lacement  of  them  shall 
leave  intact  all  that  part  of  the  executive  organization  re- 
quired for  current  administrative  purposes.  In  our  own  case 
these  requirements,  fulfilled  to  a  considerable  extent,  fall 
short  of  complete  fultilment  in  the  respect  that  the  political 
head  is  not  elective,  and  still  exercises,  especially  over  the  for- 
eign policy  of  the  nation,  a  considerable  amount  of  power.   In 


054  POLITICAL  IXSTITUTIOXS. 

the  United  States,  while  these  requirements  are  fulfilled  in 
the  resjieet  that  the  political  head  is  elective,  and  cannot 
compromize  the  nation  in  its  actions  towards  other  nations, 
they  are  not  fulfilled  in  the  respect  that  far  from  being  an 
automatic  centre,  having-  actions  restrained  by  a  ministry 
responsive  to  public  opinion,  he  exercises,  during  his  term  of 
office,  much  independent  control.  .Possibly  in  the  future,  the 
benefits  of  these  two  systems  may  be  united  and  their  evils 
avoided.  The  strong  party  antagonisms  which  accompany 
our  state  of  transition  having  died  away,  and  the  place  of 
supreme  State-officer  having  become  one  of  honour  rather 
than  one  of  power,  it  may  happen  that  appointment  to  this 
place,  made  during  the  closing  years  of  a  great  career  to 
mark  the  nation's  approbation,  will  be  made  without  any 
social  perturbation,  because  without  any  effect  on  polic}'; 
and  that,  meanwhile,  such  changes  in  the  executive  agency 
as  are  needful  to  harmonize  its  actions  with  public  opinion, 
M'ill  be,  as  at  present  among  ourselves,  changes  of  minis- 
tries. 

Rightly  to  conceive  the  natures  and  workings  of  the  central 
political  institutions  appropriate  to  the  industrial  type,  we 
must  assume  that  along  with  the  establishment  of  them  there 
has  gone  that  change  just  named  in  passing — the  decline  of 
party  antagonisms.  Looked  at  broadly,  political  parties  are 
seen  to  arise  directly  or  indirectly  out  of  the  conflict  between 
militancy  and  industrialism.  Either  they  stand  respectively 
for  the  coercive  government  of  the  one  and  the  free  govern- 
ment of  the  other,  or  for  particular  institutions  and  laws  be- 
longing to  the  one  or  the  other,  or  for  religious  opinions  and 
organizations  congruous  with  the  one  or  the  other,  or  for 
principles  and  practices  that  have  been  bequeathed  by  the 
one  or  the  other,  and  survived  under  alien  conditions.  Habit- 
ually if  we  trace  party  feeling  to  its  sources,  we  find  on  the  one 
side  maintenance  of,  and  on  the  other  opposition  to,  some 
form  of  inequity.  Wrong  is  habitually  alleged  by  this  side 
against'  that ;  and  there  must  be  injustice  either  in  the  thing 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.  (J55 

done  01*  in  the  allegation  concerning  it.  Hence  as  fast  as  the 
regime  of  voluntary  cooperation  with  its  appropriate  ideas, 
sentiments,  and  usages,  pervades  the  whole  society — as  fast  as 
there  disappear  all  those  arrangements  which  in  any  way 
trench  upon  the  equal  freedom  of  these  or  those  citizens, 
party  warfare  must  practically  die  aw^ay.  Such  differences 
of  ojiinion  only  can  remain  as  concern  matters  of  detail  and 
minor  questions  of  administration.  Evidently  there  is  ap- 
proach to  such  a  state  in  proportion  as  the  graver  injustices 
descending  from  the  militant  type  disappear.  Evidently,  too, 
one  concomitant  is  that  increasing  subdivision  of  parties  com- 
monly lamented,  which  promises  to  bring  about  the  result 
that  no  course  can  be  taken  at  the  dictation  of  any  one  moiety 
in  power;  but  every  course  taken,  having  the  assent  of  the 
average  of  parties,  will  be  thereby  proved  in  harmony  with 
the  aggregate  will  of  the  community.  And  clearly,  with  this 
breaking  up  of  parties  consequent  on  growing  indi\dduality 
of  nature,  all  such  party-antagonisms  as  we  now  know  must 
cease. 

Concerning  local  government  we  many  conclude  that  as 
centralization  is  an  essential  trait  of  the  militant  type,  de- 
centralization is  an  essential  trait  of  the  industrial  type. 
"With  that  independence  which  the  regime  of  voluntary  co- 
operation generates,  there  arises  resistance  not  only  to  dicta- 
tion by  one  man,  and  to  dictation  by  a  class,  but  even  to 
dictation  by  a  majority,  when  it  restrains  individual  action 
in  ways  not  necessary  for  maintaining  harmonious  social  re- 
lations. One  result  must  be  that  the  inhabitants  of  each 
locality  will  object  to  be  controlled  by  the  inhabitants  of 
other  localities,  in  matters  of  purely  local  concern.  In  re- 
spect of  such  laws  as  equally  apply  to  all  individuals,  and  such 
laws  as  affect  the  inhabitants  of  each  locality  in  their  in- 
tercourse with  those  of  other  localities,  the  will  of  the  ma- 
jority of  the  community  will  be  recognized  as  authorita- 
tive; but  in  respect  of  arrangements  not  affecting  the  com- 
munity at  large,  but  affecting  only  tlic  members  forming  one 


G5G  roLlTlCAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

part,  we  may  infer  tliat  there  will  arise  siieh  tendency  to 
resist  dictation  by  members  of  utlier  parts,  as  will  involve 
the  carrying  of  local  rule  to  the  greatest  practicable  limit. 
Municipal  and  kindred  governments  may  be  expected  to  ex- 
ercise legislative  and  administrative  powers,  subject  to  no 
greater  control  by  the  central  government  than  is  needful  for 
the  concord  of  the  whole  comnmnity. 

Xeither  these  nor  any  other  speculations  concerning  ulti- 
mate political  forms  can,  however,  be  regarded  as  any  thing- 
more  than  tentative.  They  are  ventured  here  simply  as  fore- 
shadowing the  general  nature  of  the  changes  to  be  antici- 
pated; and  in  so  far  as  they  are  specific,  can  be  at  the  best 
but  partially  riglit.  We  may  be  sure  that  the  future  will 
bring  unforeseen  ])olitical  arrangements  along  with  many 
other  unforeseen  things.  As  already  implied,  there  will  |)r()- 
bably  be  considerable  \ari('ty  in  the  special  forms  of  the 
political  institutions  of  industrial  societies:  all  of  them  bear- 
ing traces  of  past  institutions  which  have  been  brought  into 
congruity  with  the  representative  principle.  And  here  [ 
may  add  that  little  stress  need  be  laid  on  one  or  other  s])e- 
ciality  of  form;  since,  given  citizens  having  the  pre- 
supposed appropriate  natures,  and  but  small  differences  in 
the  ultimate  effects  will  result  from  differences  in  the  ma- 
chinery used. 

§  579.  Somewhat  more  definitely,  and  with  somewhat 
greater  positivenesp,  may  we,  I  think,  infer  the  political  func- 
tions carried  on  by  those  ])o]itical  structures  proper  to  the 
developed  indiisirin]  tyjic.  Ah-cady  these  have  been  gen- 
erally indicated;  but  here  tliey  must  be  indicated  somewhat 
more  specifically. 

AVe  have  seen  that  when  corporate  action  is  no  longer 
needed  for]ireserving  the  society  as  a  whole  from  destruction 
or  injury  by  other  societies,  tlie  end  which  remains  for  it  is 
tliat  of  j)reserving  the  component  members  of  the  society 
from  destruction  or  injury  by  one  another:    injui'y,  as  here 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     C57 

interpreted,  includiug  uot  only  immediate,  but  also  remote, 
breaclies  of  equity.  Citizens  whose  natures  have  through 
many  generations  of  voluntary  cooperation  and  accompany- 
ing regard  for  one  another's  claims,  been  moulded  into  the 
appropriate  form,  will  entirely  agree  to  maintain  such  political 
institutions  as  may  continue  needful  for  insuring  to  each  that 
the  activities  he  carries  on  within  limits  imposed  by  the  ac- 
tivities of  others,  shall  bring  to  hiili  all  the  directly-resulting 
benefits,  or  such  benefits  as  indirectly  result  under  voluntary 
agreements;  and  each  will  be  ready  to  yield  up  such  small 
])ortion  of  the  })roceeds  of  his  labour,  as  may  be  required  to 
maintain  the  agency  for  adjudicating  in  complex  cases  where 
the  equitable  course  is  not  manifest,  and  for  such  legislative 
and  administrative  purposes  as  may  prove  needful  for  ef- 
fecting an  equitable  division  of  all  natural  advantages.  Re- 
sistance to  extension  of  government  beyond  the  sphere  thus 
indicated,  must  eventually  have  a  two-fold  origin — egoistic 
and  altruistic. 

In  the  first  place,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  citizens  hav- 
ing the  characters  indicated,  will,  in  their  coqwrate  capacity, 
agree  to  impose  on  themselves  individually,  other  restraints 
than  those  necessitated  by  regard  for  one  another's  spheres 
of  action.  Each  has  had  fostered  in  him  by  the  discipline 
of  daily  life  carried  on  under  contract,  a  sentiment  prompt- 
ing assertion  of  his  claim  to  free  action  within  the  implied 
limits;  and  there  cannot  therefore  arise  in  an  aggregate  of 
such,  any  sentiment  which  would  tolerate  further  limits. 
And  that  any  part  should  impose  such  further  limits  on  the 
rest,  is  also  contrary  to  the  hj^pothesis;  since  it  presupposes 
that  political  inequality,  or  status,  which  is  excluded  by  the 
industrial  type.  Moreover,  it  is  manifest  that  the  taking 
from  citizens  of  funds  for  public  purposes  other  than  those 
above  specified,  is  negatived.  For  while  there  will  ever  be 
a  unanimous  desire  to  maintain  for  each  and  all  the 
coiiditioiis  needful  for  severally  carrying  on  their  jirivate 
activities  and  enjoying  tlie  products,   the  probabilities  are 


f>58  POLITICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

immense  against  agreement  for  any  other  public  end.  And 
in  the  absence  of  such  agreement,  there  must  arise  resistance 
by  the  dissentients  to  the  costs  and  administrative  restraints 
required  for  achieving  such  other  end.  There  must  be  dis- 
satisfaction and  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  minority  from 
whom  certain  returns  of  their  labours  are  taken,  not  for  ful- 
filling their  own  desires,  but  for  fulfilling  the  desires  of 
others.  There  must  be  an  inequality  of  treatment  which 
does  not  consist  with  the  regime  of  voluntary  cooperation 
fully  carried  out. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  enqjloyment  of  political  agencies 
for  other  ends  tlian  that  of  maintaining  equitable  relations 
among  citizens,  will  meet  with  egoistic  resistance  from  a 
minority  who  do  not  desire  such  other  ends,  it  will  also  meet 
with  altruistic  resistance  from  the  rest.  In  other  words,  the 
altruism  of  the  rest  w-ill  prevent  them  from  achieving  such 
further  ends  for  their  own  satisfaction,  at  the  cost  of  dis- 
satisfaction to  those  who  do  not  agTee  with  them.  To  one 
who  is  ruled  by  a  predominant  sentiment"  of  justice,  the 
thought  of  profiting  in  any  way,  direct  or  indirect,  at  the 
expense  of  another,  is  repugnant;  and  in  a  community  of 
such,  none  will  desire  to  achieve  by  public  agency  at  the  cost 
of  all,  benefits  which  a  part  do  not  participate  in,  or  do  not 
wish  for.  Given  in  all  citizens  a  quick  sense  of  equity,  and 
it  must  happen,  for  example,  that  while  those  who  have  no 
children  will  protest  against  the  taking  away  of  their  pro- 
perty to  educate  the  children  of  others,  the  others  will  no 
less  protest  against  having  the  education  of  their  children 
partially  paid  for  by  forced  exactions  from  t  lie  childless,  from 
the  unmarried,  and  from  those  whose  means  are  in  many 
cases  less  than  their  own.  So  that  the  eventual  limitation 
of  State-action  to  the  fundamental  one  described,  is  insured 
by  a  simultaneous  increase  of  opposition  to  other  actions  and 
a  decrease  of  desire  for  them, 

§  580.  The  restricted  sphere  for  political  institutions  thus 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     659 

inferred  as  cliaracterizing  tlie  developed  industrial  type,  may 
also  be  otherwise  inferred. 

For  this  limitation  of  State-functions  is  one  outcome  of 
that  process  of  specialization  of  functions  which  accompanies 
organic  and  super-organic  evolution  at  large.  Be  it  in  an 
animal  or  be  it  in  a  society,  the  progress  of  organization  is 
constantly  shown  by  the  multiplication  of  particular  struc- 
tures adapted  to  particular  ends.  Everywhere  we  see  the 
law  to  be  that  a  part  which  originally  served  several  purposes 
and  achieved  none  of  them  well,  becomes  divided  into  parts 
each  of  which  performs  one  of  the  purposes,  and,  acquiring 
specially-adapted  structures,  performs  it  better.  Through- 
out the  foregoing  chapters  we  have  seen  this  truth  variously 
illustrated  by  the  evolution  of  the  governmental  organiza- 
tion itself.  It  remains  here  to  point  out  that  it  is  further 
illustrated  in  a  larger  way,  by  the  division  which  has  arisen, 
and  will  grow  ever  more  decided,  between  the  functions  of 
the  governmental  organization  as  a  whole,  and  the  func- 
tions of  the  other  organizations  which  the  society  in- 
cludes. 

Already  we  have  seen  that  in  the  militant  type,  political 
control  extends  over  all  parts  of  the  lives  of  the  citizens. 
Already  we  have  seen  that  as  industrial  development  brings 
the  associated  political  changes,  the  range  of  this  control  de- 
creases: ways  of  living  are  no  longer  dictated;  dress  ceases 
to  be  prescribed;  the  rules  of  class-subordination  lose  their 
percm])torin(>ss;  religious  beliefs  and  obsen^ances  are  not 
insisted  upon ;  modes  of  cultivating  the  land  and  carrying  on 
manufactures  are  no  longer  fixed  by  law;  and  the  exchange 
of  commodities,  both  within  the  community  and  with  other 
communities,  becomes  gradually  unshackled.  That  is  to 
say,  as  industrialism  has  progressed,  the  State  has  retreated 
from  the  greater  part  of  those  regulative  actions  it  once 
undertook.  This  change  has  gone  along  with  an  increas- 
ing opposition  of  citizens  to  these  various  kinds  of  con- 
trol, and  a  decreasing  tendency  on  the  part  of  the  State  to 
101 


660  roIJTICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

exercise  tlicm.  Unless  we  assume  tliat  the  end  has  now  been 
reached,  the  implication  is  that  with  fnture  progress  of  inchis- 
trialism,  these  correlative  changes  will  continue.  Citizens 
will  rarrv  still  further  their  resistance  to  State-dictation; 
while  the  tendency  to  State-dictation  will  diminish.  Though 
recently,  along  with  re-invigoration  of  militancy,  there  have 
gone  extensions  of  governmental  interference,  yet  this  is  in- 
terpretable  as  a  temporary  wave  of  reaction.  We  may  expect 
that  with  the  ending  of  the  present  retrograde  movement  and 
resumption  of  unchecked  industrial  development,  that  in- 
creasing restriction  of  State-functions  which  has  unquestion- 
ably gone  on  during  the  later  stages  of  civilization,  will  be 
resumed;  and,  for  anything  that  appears  to  the  contrary, 
Avill  continue  until  there  is  reached  the  limit  above  indi- 
cated. 

Along  with  this  j)rogrcssing  limitation  of  political  func- 
tions, has  gone  increasing  adaptation  of  political  agencies  to 
the  protecting  function,  and  better  discharge  of  it.  During 
unqualified  militancy,  while  the  preservation  of  the  society 
as  a  whole  against  other  societies  was  the  dominant  need,  the 
preservation  of  the  individuals  forming  the  society  from  de- 
struction or  injury  by  one  another,  was  little  cared  for;  and 
in  so  far  as  it  was  cared  for,  was  cared  for  mainly  out  of  re- 
gard for  the  strength  of  the  whole  society,  and  its  efficiency 
for  war.  But  those  same  changes  which  have  cut  off  so  many 
political  functions  at  that  time  exercised,  have  greatly  devel- 
oped this  essential  and  permanent  political  function.  There 
has  been  a  growing  etHciency  of  the  organization  for  guard- 
ing life  and  property;  due  to  an  increasing  demand  on  the 
part  of  citizens  that  their  safety  shall  be  insured,  and  an 
increasing  readiness  on  the  part  of  the  State  to  respond. 
Evidently  our  own  time,  with  its  extended  arrangements 
for  administering  justice,  and  its  growing  wish  for  codifi- 
cation of  the  law,  exhibits  a  progress  in  this  direction ;  whieli 
will  end  only  wlien  the  State  undertakes  to  administer  civil 
justice    to  the  citizen  free  of  cost,  as  it   now  undertakes, 


rOLITKIAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     (J(j| 

free  of  cost,  to  protect  his  person  and  punish  c-riniinal  aggres- 
sion on  him. 

And  the  accompanying  conclusion  is  that  there  will  be 
simultaneously  carried  further  that  trait  which  already 
characterizes  the  most  industrially-organized  societies — the 
performance  of  increasingly-numerous  and  increasingly-im- 
portant functions  by  other  organizations  than  tliose  which 
form  departments  of  the  government.  Already  in  our  own 
case  private  enterprise,  working  through  incorporated  bodies 
of  citizens,  achieves  ends  undreamed  of  as  ^o  achievable  in 
primitive  societies ;  and  in  the  future,  other  ends  undreamed 
of  now  as  so  achievable,  will  be  achieved. 

§  581.  A  corollary  having  important  practical  bearings 
may  be  drawn.  The  several  changes  making  up  the  trans- 
formation above  indicated,  are  normally  connected  in  their 
amounts;  and  mischief  must  occur  if  the  due  projaortions 
among  them  are  not  maintained.  There  is  a  certain  right 
relation  to  one  another,  and  a  right  relation  to  the  natures  of 
citizens,  which  may  not  be  disregarded  with  impunity. 

The  days  when  "  paper  constitutions  "  were  believed  in 
have  gone  by — if  not  with  all,  still  with  instructed  people. 
The  general  truth  that  the  characters  of  the  units  determine 
the  character  of  the  aggregate,  though  not  admitted  overtly 
and  fully,  is  yet  admitted  to  some  extent — to  the  extent  that 
most  politically-educated  persons  do  not  expect  forthwith 
completely  to  change  the  state  of  a  society  by  this  or  that 
kind  of  legislation.  But  when  fully  admitted,  this  truth 
carries  with  it  the  conclusion  that  political  institutions  can- 
not be  effectually  modified  faster  than  the  characters  of  citi- 
zens are  modified;  and  that  if  gi-eater  modifications  arc  by 
any  accident  produced,  the  excess  of  change  is  sure  to  be  un- 
done by  some  counter-change.  When,  as  in  France,  people 
undisci})linod  in  freedom  are  suddeidy  made  ])olitically  free, 
they  show  by  some  plfhificife  that  they  willingly  deliver  over 
tlieir  power  to  an  autocrat,  or  they  work  their  parliamentary 


C62  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

system  in  siu-li  way  as  to  make  a  popular  statesman  into  a 
dictator.  When,  as  in  the  United  States,  republican  insti- 
tutions, instead  of  being  slowly  evolved,  are  all  at  once 
created,  there  grows  up  within  them  an  agency  of  wire- 
pulling politicians,  exercising  a  real  rule  which  overrides  the 
nominal  rule  of  the  people  at  large.  When,  as  at  home,  an 
extended  franchise,  very  soon  re-extended,  vastly  augments 
the  mass  of  those  who,  having  before  been  controlled  aye 
made  controllers,  they  presently  fall  under  the  rule  of  an 
organized  bod5-  that  chooses  their  candidates  and  arranges 
for  them  a  political  programme,  which  they  must  either 
accept  or  be  powerless.  So  that  in  the  absence  of  a  duly- 
adapted  character,  liberty  given  in  one  direction  is  lost  in 
another. 

Allied  to  the  normal  relation  between  character  and  in- 
stitutions, are  the  normal  relations  among  institutions  them- 
selves ;  and  the  evils  which  arise  from  disregard  of  the  second 
relations  are  allied  to  those  which  arise  from  disregard  of  the 
first.  Substantially  there  is  produced  the  same  general  ef- 
fect. The  slavery  mitigated  in  one  direction  is  intensified  in 
another.  Coercion  over  the  individual,  relaxed  here  is  tight- 
ened there.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  that  change  which  accom- 
panies development  of  the  industrial  type,  and  is  involved  by 
the  progress  towards  those  purely  equitable  relations  which 
the  regime  of  voluntary  cooperation  brings,  implies  that  the 
political  structures  simultaneously  became  poj)ular  in  their 
origin  and  restricted  in  tlicir  functions.  But  if  they  become 
more  })0]mlar  in  their  origin  without  becoming  more  re- 
stricted in  their  functions,  tlie  effect  is  to  foster  arrangements 
wliich  liciiclit  the  infcriiir  ;it  the  expense  of  the  superior:  and 
by  so  doing  ^^ork  towards  degradation.  Swayed  as  individ- 
uals are  on  the  average  by  an  egoism  whicli  dominates  over 
tlieir  altniisiii,  it  inust  liapjicn  that  even  when  they  become  so 
far  ecpiitable  in  their  sentiments  that  they  will  not  commit 
direct  injustices,  they  will  remain  ]ia1)le  to  commit  injustices 
of  indirect  kin<ls.     And  since  the  majority  must  ever  be 


POLITICAL  RETEOSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     663 

formed  of  the  inferior,  legislation,  if  unrestricted  in  its  range, 
will  inevitably  be  moulded  by  them  in  such  way  as  more  or 
less  remotely  to  work  out  to  their  own  advantage,  and  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  superior.  The  politics  of  trades'-unions 
exemplify  the  tendency.  Their  usages  have  become  such 
that  the  more  energetic  and  skilful  workmen  are  not  allowed 
to  profit  to  the  full  extent  of  their  capacities;  because,  if 
they  did  so,  they  would  discredit  and  disadvantage  those  of 
lower  capacities,  who,  forming  the  majority,  establish  and 
enforce  the  usages.  In  multitudinous  ways  a  like  tendency 
must  act  through  a  political  organization,  if,  while  all  citizens 
have  equal  powers,  the  organization  can  be  used  for  other 
purposes  than  administering  justice.  State-machineries 
worked  by  taxes  falling  in  more  than  due  proportion  on  those 
whose  greater  powers  have  brought  them  greater  means,  will 
give  to  citizens  of  smaller  powers  more  benefits  than  they 
have  earned.  And  this  burdening  of  the  better  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  worse,  must  check  the  evolution  of  a  higher  and 
more  adapted  nature :  the  ultimate  result  being  that  a  com- 
munity by  which  this  policy  is  pursued,  will,  other  things 
equal,  fail  in  competition  with  a  community  which  pursues 
the  purely  equitable  policy,  and  will  eventually  disappear  in 
the  race  of  civilization. 

In  brief,  the  diffusion  of  political  power  unaccompanied  by 
the  limitation  of  political  functions,  issues  in  communism. 
For  the  direct  defrauding  of  the  many  by  the  few,  it  suli- 
stitutes  the  indirect  defrauding  of  the  few  liy  the  many:  evil 
proportionate  to  the  inequity,  being  the  result  in  the  one  case 
as  in  the  other. 

§  582.  But  the  conclusion  of  profoundest  moment  to 
which  all  lines  of  argument  converge,  is  that  the  possibility 
of  a  high  social  state,  political  as  well  as  general,  funda- 
mentally depends  on  the  cessation  of  war.  After  all  that  has 
been  said  it  is  needless  to  emphasize  afresh  the  truth  that  per- 
sistent militancy,  maintaining  adapted  institutions,  must  in- 


664  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

evitalilv  jn'cvcnt,  or  else  luMitrnlizp,  cliaiiges  in  the  direction 
of  more  oqiiitablo  institutions  and  laws;  while  ppvmanent 
peace  will  of  necessity  be  followed  by  social  ameliorations  of 
every  kind. 

From  war  has  been  gained  all  that  it  had  to  give.  The 
peopling  of  the  Earth  by  the  more  powerful  and  intelligent 
races,  is  a  benefit  in  great  measure  achieved;  and  what  re- 
mains to  be  done,  calls  for  no  other  agency  than  the  quiet 
pressure  of  a  spreading  industrial  civilization  on  a  barbarism 
which  slowly  dwindles.  That  integration  of  simple  groups 
into  compound  ones,  and  of  these  into  doubly  compound 
ones,  which  war  has  effected,  until  at  length  great  nations 
have  been  produced,  is  a  process  already  carried  as  far  as 
seems  either  practicable  or  desirable.  Empires  formed  of 
alien  peoples  habitually  fall  to  pieces  when  the  coercive  power 
which  holds  them  together  fails;  and  even  could  they  be 
held  together,  would  not  form  harmoniously-working  wdiolcs: 
peaceful  federation  is  the  only  further  consolidation  to  be 
looked  for.  Such  large  advantage  as  war  has  yielded  by  de- 
veloping that  political  organization  which,  beginning  with 
the  leadership  of  the  best  warrior  has  ended  in  complex  gov- 
ernments and  systems  of  administration,  has  been  fully  ob- 
tained ;  and  there  only  remains  for  the  future  to  preserve  and 
re-mould  its  useful  parts  while  getting  rid  of  those  no  longer 
required.  So,  too,  that  organization  of  labour  initiated  by 
war — an  organization  which,  setting  out  with  the  r(>lation 
of  owner  and  slave  and  developing  into  that  of  master  and 
servant,  has,  by  elaboration,  given  us  industrial  structures 
having  numerous  grades  of  officials,  from  head-directors  down 
to  foremen — has  been  developed  quite  as  far  as  is  requisite 
for  combined  action;  and  has  to  be  hereafter  modified,  not 
in  the  direction  of  greater  military  subordination,  l)ut  rather 
in  the  opposite  direction.  Again,  the  power  of  continuous 
applioation,  lacking  in  the  savage  and  to  be  gained  only  under 
that  coercive  discipline  which  the  militant  type  of  society 
establishes,  has  been  already  in  large  measure  acquired  by 
the  civilize<l  man;  and  such  fnrthcr  degree  of  it  as  is  needed, 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     G05 

will  be  produced  under  the  stress  of  industrial  competition 
in  free  communities,  Nor  is  it  otherwise  with  great  public 
works  and  developed  industrial  arts.  Though,  in  the  canal 
cut  by  the  Persians  across  the  isthmus  of  Athos,  and  again 
in  a  canal  of  two  miles  long  made  by  the  Fijians,  we  see  both 
that  war  is  the  first  prompter  to  such  undertakings  and  that 
the  despotic  rule  established  by  it  is  the  needful  agency  for 
carrying  them  out;  yet  we  also  see  that  industrial  evolution 
has  now  reached  a  stage  at  which  commercial  advantage  sup- 
plies a  sufiicient  stimulus,  and  private  trading  corporations 
a  sufficient  power,  to  execute  works  far  largei-  and  more 
numerous.  And  though  from  early  days  when  flint  arrow- 
heads were  chipped  and  clubs  carved,  down  to  present  days 
when  armour-plates  a  foot  thick  are  rolled,  the  needs  of  de- 
fence and  offence  have  urged  on  invention  and  mechanical 
skill;  yet  in  our  own  generation  steam-hammers,  hydraulic 
rams,  and  multitudinous  new  appliances  from  locomotives  to 
telephones,  prove  that  industrial  needs  alone  have  come  to 
furnish  abundant  pressure  whereby,  hereafter,  the  industrial 
arts  will  be  further  advanced.  Thus,  that  social  evolution 
which  had  to  be  achieved  through  the  conflicts  of  societies 
with  one  another,  has  already  been  achieved;  and  no  further 
benefits  are  to  be  looked  for. 

Only  further  evils  are  to  be  looked  for  from  the  continu- 
ance of  militancy  in  civilized  nations.  The  general  lesson 
taught  by  all  the  foregoing  chapters  is  that,  indispensable  as 
has  been  this  process  by  which  nations  have  been  consoli- 
dated, organized,  and  disciplined,  and  requisite  as  has  been 
the  implied  coercion  to  develop  certain  traits  of  individual 
human  nature,  yet  that,  beyond  the  unimaginable  amount  of 
suffering  directly  involved  by  the  ]irocess,  there  has  lieen  an 
unimaginable  amount  of  suffering  indirectly  involvt>d ;  alike 
by  the  forms  of  ]iolitical  institutions  necessitated,  and  by  the 
accompanying  type  of  individual  nature  fostered.  And  they 
show  by  implication  that  for  tlie  diminution  of  this  suffering, 
not  onlv  of  the  direct  kind  Init  of  the  indirect  kind,  the  one 


6G6  POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

thing  needful  is  the  checking  of  international  antagonisms 
and  the  diminution  of  those  armaments  which  are  at  once 
cause  and  consequence  of  them.  With  the  repression  of 
militant  activities  and  decay  of  militant  organizations,  will 
come  amelioration  of  political  institutions  as  of  all  other  in- 
stitutions. Without  them,  no  such  ameliorations  are  per- 
manently possible.  Liberty  overtly  gained  in  name  and  form 
will  be  unobtrusively  taken  away  in  fact. 

It  is  not  to  be  expected,  however,  that  any  very  marked 
effects  are  to  be  produced  by  the  clearest  demonstration  of 
this  truth — even  by  a  demonstration  beyond  all  question.  A 
general  congruity  has  to  be  maintained  between  the  social 
state  at  any  time  necessitated  by  circumstances,  and  the  ac- 
cepted theories  of  conduct,  political  and  individual.  Such 
acceptance  as  there  may  be  of  doctrines  at  variance  with  the 
temporary  needs,  can  never  be  more  than  nominal  in  degTee, 
or  limited  in  range,  or  both.  The  acceptance  which  guides 
conduct  will  always  be  of  such  theories,  no  matter  how 
logically  indefensible,  as  are  consistent  with  the  average 
modes  of  action,  public  and  private.  All  that  can  be  done 
by  diffusing  a  doctrine  much  in  advance  of  the  time,  is  to 
facilitate  the  action  of  forces  tending  to  cause  advance. .  The 
forces  themselves  can  be  but  in  small  degrees  increased ;  but 
something  may  be  done  by  preventing  mis-direction  of  them. 
Of  tlie  sentiment  at  any  time  enlisted  on  belialf  of  a  higher 
social  state,  there  is  always  some  (and  at  the  present  time  a 
great  deal)  which,  liaving  the  broad  vague  form  of  sympathy 
with  the  masses,  spends  itself  in  efforts  for  their  welfare  by 
multiplication  of  political  agencies  of  one  or  other  kind. 
Led  by  the  prospect  of  immediate  beneficial  results,  those 
swayed  by  this  sympathy  are  unconscious  that  they  are  help- 
ing further  to  elaborate  a  social  organization  at  variance 
with  that  required  for  a  higlier  form  of  social  life,  and 
are,  by  so  doing,  increasing  the  obstacles  to  attainment 
of  that  higher  form.  On  a  portion  of  sudi  the  foregoing 
chapters  may  have  some  effect  by  leading  them  to  con- 


POLITICAL  RETROSPECT  AND  PROSPECT.     667 

sider  whether  the  arrangements  they  are  advocating  involve 
increase  of  that  public  regulation  characterizing  the  militant 
type,  or  whether  they  tend  to  produce  that  greater  individu- 
ality and  more  extended  voluntary  cooperation,  characteriz- 
ing the  industrial  t}"pe.  To  deter  here  and  there  one  from 
doing  mischief  by  imprudent  zeal,  is  the  chief  proximate 
effect  to  be  hoped  for. 


REFERENCES. 


To  find  the  authority  for  any  statement  in  the  text,  the  reader  ia  to 
proceed  as  follows  : — Observing  the  number  of  the  section  in  which 
the  statement  occurs,  he  will  first  look  out,  in  the  following  pages, 
the  corresponding  number,  which  is  printed  in  conspicuous  type. 
Among  the  references  succeeding  this  number,  he  will  then  look 
for  the  name  of  the  tribe,  people,  or  nation  concerning  which  the 
statement  is  made  (the  names  in  the  references  standing  in  the  same 
order  as  that  which  they  have  in  the  text) ;  and  that  it  may  moi-e 
readily  catch  the  eye,  each  such  name  is  prmted  in  Italics.  In  the 
parenthesis  following  the  name,  will  be  found  the  volume  and  page 
of  the  woik  referred  to,  preceded  by  the  first  three  or  four  letters  of 
the  author's  name  ;  and  where  more  than  one  of  his  works  has  been 
used,  the  first  three  or  four  letters  of  the  title  of  the  one  containing 
the  particular  statement.  The  meanings  of  these  abbreviations, 
employed  to  save  the  space  that  would  be  occupied  by  frequent 
repetitions  of  full  titles,  is  shown  at  the  end  of  the  references  ;  where 
will  be  found  arranged  in  alphabetical  order,  these  initial  syllables  of 
authors'  names,  &c.,  and  opposite  to  them  the  fuU  titles  of  the  works 
referred  to. 


CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§343.  Australians  (Mitch,  ii,  68;  i,  87;  Ang.  i,  59)  —  Tohmaniar.u 
(Bon.  pp.  3,  37,  226) — Esquimaux  (ref.  lost) — Gomanches  (Eanc.  i,  519) — 
Araucanians  (Smith,  196) — Bedouins  (Bur.  — ) — Arabs  (Lyon,  53) — 
Balonda  (Liv.  296) — Malagasy  (ICU.  "Hist."  i,  258) — Samoans  (Tur. 
289).  §  344.   Chinese  ( VViU.  ii,  m)—Tahifians  (£11.  "  Pol.  R<<9."  i,  —  ; 

ii,  369)  —  Tongans  (Mar.  ii,  78,  100)  —  Ancienf  Mexicans  (Dur.  i.  ch.  2fy)  — 
Peru  (Gar.  bk.  ii,  ch.  12) — Japanese  (Ale.  i,  63) — England  (Whar.  4()9)  — 
Tahitians  (Ell.  "  Pol.  Re.s."  ii,  216) — Sandwich  Islanders  (Ell.  "  Hawaii," 
393-4) — Nicaraguans  (Ovi.  bk.  xlii,  ch.  2  &  3) — Peruvians  (Acos.  bk.  r,  ch.  25) 
—Hebrews    (Kue.    i,    292-3)— Ji/erfiVswaZ    Europe    (ref.  lost).  §  345. 

Toiigans  (Mar.  i,  146,  note) — Fijians  (Wil.  i,  233) — Siamese  (La  Loub.  i, 
^oi)— Chinese  (Will,  i,  ZVi)— Japanese   (Stein.  — ).  §   346.  Mongol 

(Timk.  i,  196)  —  Philippines  (.fag.  161)  —  Chittagong  Hill  Tribes  (Lew. 
118)  —  Burmese  (Fyt.  ii,  69)  —  Samoans  (Tur.  346)  —  Esquimaux  (Beech,  i 
^42) — New  Zealanders  (Cook,  "  Last  Voy."  49) — Snake  Indians  (Lew.  &  CI 
266) — Comanches  (Murcy,  2'.)) — Fuegians  (Eth.  S.  "Trans."  i,  263) — Loango 
(Pink.  Vov.  xvi,  331) — Bat  oka  (Liv.  551) — Balonda  (Liv.  276) — Loango 
(Ast.  iii,  228)  —  Fuegians  (U.  S.  Ex.  i,  127)  —  Fiji  (Wil.  i,  37)  — 
Australians  (Mitch,  i,  87)   —  New   Zealanders  (An/,  ii,  32-75)  —  Contrti! 


2  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

South  Africa  (TAv.  —  ) — Shoxhonex  (Banc,  i,  4SS) — Australians  (Ansj.  i, 
59) — Fate  (Ersk.  334) — Satnoan  (Tur.  194) — Africa  (Liv.  —  )—Peruoiani 
(Cie.  IG'S)  —  Erji/pfians  (Wilk.  platen) — Moslem  (Kliin.  1()6)  — Tahifiana 
(Hawk.  i.  447) —  Kaffirs  (Bar.  i,  175) — Tasmanians  (West,  ii,  7) — Arabs 
(Bak.  S6)—Kamscha'dales  (Kiash.  212-3).  §  347.  Patagonians  (Falk. 

VlV)— Madagascar  (Ell.  "Hist."  ii,  2:^S)—^amoans  (Tur.  'i AS)  —  Fijian^ 
(Ersk.  254)  —  Ashantees  (Dup.  43)  —  Yoruhas  (Lan.  i,  125)  — Madagascar 
(ref.  \o»t)— China  (Staun.  315)  —  Chihchas  (Sim.  267)  —  Samoa  (Tur.  314) 

—  Madagascar  (Ell.  "  Visits,"  127)  —  Japanese  (Stein.  — )  —  Chinese  (Mil. 
94)— 7?owe  (Beck.  21S)— Assyrians  (Raw.  i,  bOi-'i)  —Mexico  (Her.  iii,  203  j 
Torq.  bk.  ix.  ch.  20)  — Nicaragua  (Squ.  ii,  346)— Per«  (Piz.  225;  Xer.  48)— 
Chibchas  (Pied.  bk.  i,  cli.  5) — Uganda  (Speke,  294 — Dahomey  (Bur.  i,  244) 

—  Abyssinians  (Duf.  71 ;  Bru.  iv,  454,  417)  — New  Zealand  (Thorn,  i,  114) 
—Egypt  (Eb.  i,  352)— C/nna  (Hue,  "Trav."  ii,  261;  Gutz.  ii,  311;  Will. 
i,  331-2  ;  ii,  6S-^)— Japanese  (Dick.  79  ;  W\t.  ii,  '^Z)— Chivalry  (Scott,  3-4) 
— France  (Leb.  vol.  xiii,  passim  ;  Cher.  536-7)  —  England  (Nob.  passim) — 
Peru  (Acos.  bk.  v,  ch.  6) — Madagascar  (Ell.  "  Jlist."  i,  356) — England  (Nob. 
46  &  passim) — France  (Leb.  vol.  xiii,  passim)  —  England  (Nob.  315-6). 
§  349.  Vate  (Tur.  m-6)—Shoshones  (Banc,  i,  438)— If/* Aw ?>  (Coop.  190)— 
Santals  (As.  S.  B.  xx,  bS2)—Koossas  (Lich.  i,  2m)—Ashantee  (Beech.  211) 
— Certs  and  Opatas  (Banc,  i,  581) — Chichimecs  (Banc,  i,  629).  §  350. 
Hebrews  (Judges  vii,  25;  1  Samuel  xvii,  54)  —  Chichimecs  (Banc,  i,  629)  — 
Ahipones  (Dob.  ii,  4<i8) — Mundrucus  (Hen.  475) — New  Zealanders  (Thorn,  i, 
130)  — Cow^o  (Tuck.  \0\)—Ashantee {I>u\i.  221)— Persia  (Mor.  186)— 2\>no«r 
(Gib.  ch.  li.^)— Dahomey  (Bur.  i,  218;  Dal.  76) — Northern  Celebes  (veiAost) 
—DynTcs  (Boyle,  170-1)— A'wK?  (As.  S.  B.  ix,  SZl)— Borneo  (St.  John,  ii,  27). 
§  351.  Ashanfee  (Ram.  \?iO)—Tahitians  (Hawk,  ii,  161)— Ta/e  (Tur.  393) 

—  Boigu  (Roy.  G.  S.  xx,  9(>)  —  Tupis  (South,  i.  222)  —  Caribs  (Ed.  i,  35)  — 
Moxos  (Hutch.  34) — Central  Americans  (Fan.  315) — Poland  (Gib.  ch.  Ixiv) 

—  Constantine  (Gib.  ch.  xlviii)  —  Montenegro  {The  Times,  Dec.  14,  1876). 
§  352.  Mexicans  (Nouv.  xcix,  134;  Saha.  bk.  ix,  c.  15) — Yucatan  (Uer.  iv, 
174)  —Abipones  (Dob.  ii,  408)  —  Shoshones  (Lew.  &  CI.  ^m)  —  Nag  as  (As. 
S.  B.  ix,  9o9)—Mandans  (Cat.  i,  \m)—Cochimis  (Banc,  i,  567).  §  353. 
Mexicans  (Banc,  i,  581) — Californians  (Banc,  i,  380)  —  Khonds  (Macpli.  57) 
— Egyptians  (Dun.  i,  131) — Abyssinian!^  (Bru.  vi,  116-17;  Heri.  188-9) — 
Hebrews  (1  Sara,  xviii,  25,  27).  §  354.  Osaqes  (Tvlor,  "  Prim.  Cult." 
i,416)— OjiAHwy*  (Hind,  ii,  123).  §355.  ff"««Ay  (Lo)iiigrou,  371;  Par. 
320,658)— ,/eW  (2  Maccabees  XV,  30;  2Sam.iv,12).  §356.  Oauls{\y\oA. 
i,  315)  —  Timour  (Gib.  cli.  Ixv)  —  Khonds  (Macph.  57)  —  Tahitians  (Ell. 
"Pol.  Res."  i,  4HH)—Phi/istines  (1  Sam.  xxxi,  \())  — Greeks  (Pot.  ii,  109-10) 
— Fijians  (U.S.  Ex.  iii,  eh.  Ixxx) — Flemish  (Clier.  358) — French  (Leb.  vi, 
127).  §  357.  Scotland  (Burt,  i,  39H)—Kbonds  (Macph.  46)—Athe,iian4 
(Grot«,  iii,  ?.S2)—Fiji  (Wil.  i,  :ii)—Panthay  (Baher)—Fiji  (Ersk.  454)— 
Shoshones  (Banc,  i,  433)  —  Chichimecs  (Banc,  i,  6-9)  —  Hebrews  (1  Sam.  li, 
1-2) — Bulgarians  (Gib.  ch.  Iv).  §  358.  Araucanians  (Thoinp.,  G.  i, 
AQC)  —  Bactrians  (Dun.  i,  VIA:)— Hebrews  (Judges  i,  6-7)  —  Fiji  (Wil.  i,  30, 
198,  177)  —  Charruas  (Hutch.  48  et  seq.)  —  Mandans  (ref.  lost)  —  Tonga 
{Mi!iT.u,2\0-l\)— Australians  (.Mitch,  ii,  345)— 7/o«e»/o^  (Pink.  Voy.  xvi, 
141)  —  Egypt  (Wilk.  i,  .307)  —Japanese  (Busk,  241).  §  359.  Central 
Americans  (Her.  iv,  136)  — Ashantees  (Ram.  216)  —  Anc.  Mexico  (Clav.  bk. 
vii,  c.  17) — Honduras  (Her.  iv,  140) — Miztecs  (Her.  iii,  262-3) — Zapoteca* 
(Her.  iii,  269)  —  Hebrews  (Knobel,  226-7)  —  Burmese  (Sang.  124)  —  Oond 
(Fors.  \GA)—Astrachan  (Bell,  i,  A:^)—Hebrews  (2  Kings,  six).  §  360. 
Sandwich  Islands  (Ell.  "  Hawaii,"  165-6;  Ell.  W.  ii,  69) — Australians  (Ang. 
Li,  217  ;  Hay.  103-4)— .inf.  Peruvvms  vCie.  177,  181).  §  361.  Britain 
(Cox  and  Jones,  88) — Kalmucks  (Pal.  — ) — Chinese  (Will,  ii,  2.L\)- —Orecka 
and  Romans  (Smith,  W.  s.v.  "  Coma")  —  Nootkas  (BuiiO.  i,  19"))  —  Caribs 
CEd.i,42j — Nicaragua  {U.Qi.m,Z'J^) — Central  Americans  {Cog.\i)i..i\,c\iA'i—' 


REFERENCES.  8 

J^cieitt  Mexicans  (Zur.  Ill)  —  Ckihchas  (Pied.  bt.  i,  ch.  2)  —  Tfzaex 
(Fan.  313) — Ottomans  (Pax.  iv,  87) — Greeks  (iteck.  453-55) — Franks 
(Guer.  "Polyp."  i,  300;  Bouq.  ii,  49;  Greg.  bk.  iii,  ch.  18)  — Japanese 
(Busk,  144)  —  Samoans  (Tur.  205-6)  —  Neto  Caledonians  (Eth.  S.  "  Jour." 
iii,  56)  —  Europe  (Due.  379)  —  Clons  and  Alaric  (Due.  383)  —  Dacotahs 
(Lew.  &  CI.  64)  —  Caribs  (lid.  i,  42)  — Hebrews  (Leviticus  xxi,  5;  Jer.  xvi, 
(j)  —  Greeks  and  Romans  (Smith,  W.  s.v.  "  Coma  ")  —  Greeks  (Pot.  ii, 
198-9;  Soph.  47;  Beck.  398;  Smith,  W.  s.v.  "Coma")  —  Romans  (ref. 
lost)  —  Hebrews  (Jer.  xli,  5) — Arabians  (Krehl,  32-3) — Ancient  Per% 
(Acosta,  bk.  v,  ch.  5) — Tahitians  (llawk.  i,  468) — France  (Guizot  "  Col."  — ). 
§  362.  Spoleto  (Gib.  — )  —  Phrygian  (Dun.  i,  531)  —  Mexicans  (Brin. 
147) — Hottentots  (Kol.  i,  112) — Phoenicians  (Mot.  i,  362) — San  Salvador 
(Squ.  "Coll."  87) — Moses  (Exod.  iv,  24-26) — Antiochus  (1  Alacc.  i,  48-60) — 
Mattathias  (1  Mace,  ii,  45-6) — Rijrcanus  (Jos.  i,  525) — Aristobtdus  (Jos.  i, 
h-i'l)—Tongans   (Mar.  ii,  1^)— Berbers  (Rohlfs,  45).  §  363.  Kaffirs 

(Gard.  1^64) — Jews  (Jerem.  xli,  5) — Samoans  (Tur.  1S7) — Central  Americans 
(Mart.  338).  §  364.  Huns  (Jor.  -Alh)— Turks  (Pell,  i,  158,  note)  — 

Lacedcemonians  (Pot.  ii,  204)  —  Hebrews  (Levit.  xix,  28  —  Scandinavians 
(Heim.  i,  224,  225)  —  Andamans  (Eth.  S.  "  Trans."  ii,  36)  —  Abeokuta 
(Bur.  i,  104)  —  Cuebas  (Banc,  i,  753)  —  Peruvians  (Cie.  311)  —  Sandwich 
Islanders  (Ell.  W.  ii,  152)  —  Darian  Indians  (Banc,  i,  771)  —  Sandwich 
Islanders  (iill.  "  Hawaii,"  166) — Eastern  (reference  lost) — Hebrews  (Deut. 
ixxii,  5;  Kev.  vii,  2-3;  xiv,  1,  9,  10) — Arabs  ( I'homson,  i,  91) — Christians 
(Kal.  ii,  429-30)  — Mexico  (Torq.  bk.  ix,  ch.  31) — Angola  (Bast.  76)  — 
Tongans  (Mar.  ii,  26S).  §  365.  Bechuanas  (Lich.  ii,  331)  —  Damaras 

(And.  224)— Cow^o  (Tuck.  80)— Itzaex  (Fan.  313) — Abipones  (Dob.  ii,  35). 
§  368.  Ancient  Peruvians  (Gar.  bk.  ii,  ch.  4).  §  369.  Mexico  (Torq. 

bk.  xiv,  ch.  9)  —  Chibchas  (Sim.  251)  —  Yucatan  (Landa,  §  xx)  —  Tahitianu 
(Forst.  370)  —  Fiji  (Wil.  i,  28)  —  Tahiti  (Ell.  "  Pol.  Res."  i,  319)  —  Fiji 
(Ersk.  —)—Malagasij  (Drur.  220).  §  370.  Timbuctoo  (Cail.  ii,  53)  — 

Ka-lprs  (Lich.  i,  287,  271)—  Vera  Paz  (Torq,  bk.  xi,  ch.  \d)  —  Chibchas 
(Pied.  bk.  i,  ch.  5)  —  Mexicans  (Tern,  x,  404)  —  Peru  (Guz.  91)  —  Hebrews 
(2  Chron.  ix,  23-4;  1  Sam.  x,  27)  —  Japan  (Dick.  325 ;  KsBin.  49)  —  China 
(Chin.  Rep.  iii,  110-11) — Burmah  (Yule,  76) — Merovinqtans  (Bouq.  ii,  617) 
^England  (Rob.  20).  §  371.  Persia  (Mai.  ii,  477-ii)  — Tonga  (Mar.  i, 

232,  note) — Mexicans  (Dur.  i,  ch.  25  ;  Tern,  xvi,  288-9) — Montezuma  (Gal. 
117  ;  Tern,  x,  405)  —  Merovi7igiaus  and  Carolingians  (Wai.  ii,  557 ;  iv, 
91-5-8;  Guei'.  "St.  Pere,"  introd. ;  Leber,  vii,  — ;  Guer.  "St.  Pere," 
mivoA.)—EnyU.-ih.  (Stubbs,  i,  278).  §  372.   Chibchas  (Pied.  bk.  ii,  ch. 

4) —  Sumatra  (Mars.  211) — Jummoo  (Drew  "  Jum."  15) — Anglo-Saxons 
(Broom,  27) — Normans  (Moz.  s.v.  "  Orig.  Writ.;"  Black  iii,  279) — Kirghis 
(ref .  lost) — France  (Guizot,  "  Hist."  iii,  :^60;  Cher.  s.v.  "Epices") — English 
(Rob.  1;  Stubbs,  i,  384)  -Spain  ^Rt'Se,  i,  79) — Bechuanas  (Burch.  i,  544)  — 
Dahomey  (For.  i,  M)—East  (Van  Len.  ii,  592).  §  373.   Congo  (Tuck. 

116)  —  Tonquin  (Tav.  description  of  plates)  —  Neio  Caledonians  iTur.  88)  — 
Veddah  (Eth.  S.  "Trans."  ii,  301) — Dyaks  (Urooke,  ii,  73) — Greeks  (Gulil, 
283)  —  Zulu  (Gard.  96)  —  Hebrews  (Levit.  i)  —  Greeks  (Pot.  i,  23U)  — 
Hebrews  (1  Sam.  xxi,  6)  —  England    (Hook,   541).  §  374.  Ancient 

Mexico  (Saba.  bk.  iii,  ch.  1,  §  3-4)  —  Kukis  (As.  S.  B.  xxiv,  630)  —  Battas 
(Mars.  386) — Bustars  (His.  17)— Dahomey  (Bur.  ii,  153;  For.  i,  174) — 
Ashantees  (Beech.  189)  —  Tahitians  (Ell.  "  Pol.  Res."  ii,  271)  —  Central 
America  (Ovi.  bk.  xlii,  cli.  2  and  ^)  —  Greeks  (Pot.  i,  172,  24:7)  —  Early 
Ckri.'itiuns  (Hook,  540-1)  —  MedicBval  (Guer.  "  JN^.  Dame,"  i,  p.  xiv). 
§  375.  China  (Stai.n.  'ihl)— Kukis  (But.  ^4)— Dahomey  (For.  ii,  243)— Ger- 
»Ka«i- (Tac. xiv) — French  (\)\xc.W;  Moiis.  bk.  i,  cli.59).  §  376.  Austra- 

Mans  (Hawk,  iii,  634)  — av((/a/^.v  (Bell,  ii,  IS'J)— Jul  if unda  (Par!;,  —)  —  yor/h 
Ameruan  liununs  (Cat.  i,  223,  note)  —  I'ucatanes^  (Laiida,  §  xxiii) — Japanese 
CMit,  i.  U2.  14-2)  —  nuualanas  (Mark.  108)— JBootan  tTum.  223.72.'- i2ow»- 


4  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

(Cor.  14~15)— France  (Du  M.  115).  §  379.  JoIoffS  (Mol.  31)— Kajfra 

(Slioot.  99) — Ancient  Peruvians-  (Cie.  2G2  ;  X<  r.  6t>) — Mexico  (Tern,  xvi, 
mi^)  —  Ashantee  (Beech.  ^dAr-G)— Dahomey  (Bur.  i,  29G)) — Madagascar 
(Ell.  "  Visits,"  \21)—Siam  (Bowr.  ii,  108)— .i;o.<7«^  (Tav.  ii,  67)— Jummoo 
(Drew,  "  Nortli.  Bar."  47) — Japan  (Kseni.  49,  66,  11) — France  (  rocq.  225). 
§  380.  Spain  (Rose  i,  119)— J^j^an  (Kscdi.  51 ;  46).  §  381.  Wahhabee* 

(Pal.  ii,  110)  —  Persia  (Tav.  bk.  v,  cli.  xiv,  235)  —  Africa  (Grant,  48)  — 
French  (Rules,  150).  §  383.   Shoshones  (Lew.  &  CI.  2fi5)  —  Batokn 

(Liv.  551)  — Ton^a  (Forst.  Z6\)— Africa  (Laird  i,  192)— P^rw  (Gar.  bk.  iii, 
ch.  2  ;  Markham  94).  §  384.  Chihcha  (Sim.  26\)—Borcihoo  (Lan.  ii,  183) 

— Asia  (Camp.  l-i7  ;  Bowr.  ii,  270) — Polynesia  (Cook,  "  Last  Voy."  3u4) — 
Jews  (2  Sam.  ix,  6)  —  Bifki/nia  (Mon.  — )  —  Boofan  (Turn.  80)  —  Coatt 
Negroes  (Bos.  317) — Brass  (Laird  i,  97) —  Congo  (Tuck.  125)  — Niger  (AIL 
&  T.  i,  392)  —  Russia  (ref.  lost)  —  Chiyia  (Will,  ii,  68-9)  —  Hebrews 
(Gen.  xxxiii,  8;  xvii.  17  ;  Dan.  ii,  46;  iii,  6) — Mongols  (Pall. — ) — Japanese 
(Ksem.    50).  §  385.    Dahomey    (Bur.    i,  2(51)  —  Mexicans    (Dur.    i, 

207) — New  Caledonians  (Ersk.  356)  —  IJahoviPii  (Bur.  i,  262) — Siam  (Bowr. 
i,  \2'S)—Camhodia  (Bowr.  ii,  31)— Zulu  (Gard.  203)— Loango  (Ast.  iii,  221) 
—  Dahomei/  (Bur.  i,  250;  ii,  45)  — Japan  (Dick.  30)  —  China  (Pink,  vii, 
238)  —  Europe  (Ste.  Pal.  ii,  197-8)  —Japanese  (Chin.  Rep.  iii,  200)  — 
China  (Will,  ii,  68)  —  Soosoos  (Wint.  i,  123)  —  Samoa  (Tur.  332)  —  Ancient 
Mexicans  (Nouv.  xcviii,  20  )  — Chinese  (Will,  ii,  68)  —  Conrjoese  (Bast.  143). 
§  386.  Loango  (.Vet.  iii,  2-lS)  — Uganda  (Speke.  36\)—B'.ilonda  (Liv.  296) 
— Karague  (Grant,  140) — Fiji  (Wil.  i,  35-6) — Eboe  (Laird  i,  388) — Ancient 
Mexicans  (Diaz,  ch.  71) — Ahgssinians  (Har.  iii,  170)  — Malagasy  (Drur, 
6~ -S)— Ancient  Peru  (Xor.  6S)  —  Persia  (Por.  i,  464)  —  ronyo "(Mar.  i,  227 
note) — Arabian  (Pax.iv,4;j) — Orientals  (ref.  lost) — J/ej/co  (Clav.  bk.  vi,  ch.8) 
— Peru  (Acos.  bk.  v,  ch.  4;  Gar.  bk.  ii,  cli.  8)  —  Greeks  (Smitd,  W.«.t).  "  Sal- 
iaX\o")—Pepin  (Bouq.  v,  433).  §  387.  Africa  (Bur. "  Dah  "  i,  259-60 ; 

All.  &T.  i,  345  ;  Liv.  z76.  296;  All.  &  T.  i,  392)— Je«-s  (Jos.ii,  2H7)— Turkey 
(Whiteii,  239;  i,232)—Jews(l  King8xx,32  ;  Josh.  vii,6).  §388.  Uganda 
(Grant,  224:)—Chinese  (Doo.  i,  121)— Mojigol  (Hue,  "  Chin.  Enip."  i,  54)— 
Malagasy  (Drur.  7S) — Siamese  (La  Loub.  i,  179)  —  Unyanyemhe  (Grant, 
52) — Sumatra  (Mars.  281)  —  Greeks  (ref.  lost) — Siamese  (Bowr.  i,  128) — 
China  (Will,  ii,  aS).  §  389.  Fijians  (Ersk.  297)  — Otahri fans  (Hawk,  ii, 

84) — Soudan  (Tylor,  "Early  Hist."  50)  —  Uganda  (Speke,  374)  — Abi/ssinia 
(Bar.  iii,  171)  —  Tahitians  (Kll.  "  Pol.  Res."  ii.  352  ;  Forst.  361)  —  Gold 
Coast  (Cruic.  ii,  282  ;  ref.  lost) — Spain  (Ford,  "  Gatherings,"  249) — Dahomey 
(Bur.  i,  49)  —  Gold  Coast  (Cruic.  ii,  282)  — Ancient  America  (Anda,  58; 
Tern.  — ) — Burmah  (Yule.  79)  —  Persia  (Mor.  241) — Ancient  Mexico  (Diaz, 
ch.  91)  —  Peru  (Anda.  5S)  —  Dahomey  (Dal.  p.  vii)  —  France  (Com. 
bk.  ii,  ch.  3  ;  St.  Sim.  xi,  37S)  —  Hebretcs  (Isa.  xxxii,  11)  —  East  (Pax.  iv, 
\36)  —  Peru  (Gar.  bk.  vi,  ch.  2\)—Damaras  (And.  231)  —  Turks  (White  ii, 
96).  §  390.   Toorkee  (Grant,  3:53)  —  Slave  Coast  (Bos.  318)  —  China 

(Gray,  i,  2\\)—Mosquit<>s  (Banc,  i,  7-^1)— Arabs  (Mai.  — ;  Nieb.  ii;  247). 
§391.  Kamsrhadales{\ivti^\\.\77)— Uganda {(}Tant,2-Z'^).  §392.  Polea 

(Hpen.  i,  \:,6-7)  — Turkish  (White  ii,  303)— Siam  (Bowr.  i,  127;  La  Loub, 
ii,  178)— i?tt*.n«  (nf.  lost).  §393.   Tupis  (Slado,   151,  b9)— Africa 

{'i,U\.2HH)— Sandwich  Is.  (Ell.  "  Hawaii,"  3S5)—i?'rtfHre  (La  Sale,  196)— 
Spain  (Ford,  "  Handbook,"  p.  Ixi).  §  394.   France  (Cher,  ii,  1131)— 

Hebrews  (2  Sura,  xiv,  22 ;  Isaiah  ilviii,  20 ;  2  Kin;,'s  xvi,  7)  —  Europe 
(Due.  393)  —  Samoan  (Tur.  348).  §   395.   Ei/npt  (ref.  lost)  —  Siam 

(Bowr.  i,  127)  —  Turkey  (White  ii,  52)  —Bulgarians  (Timt-s,  12  Deo.  1876) 
—French  (Sully  — )  —  Delhi  (Tav.  ii,  84-5)  —  Ru^tsia  ref.  lost)  —  France 
(ref.  lost) — Chinese  (Gray  i,  211)  —  India  (Pax.  ii,  74)  —  Persians  (Tav. 
bk.  V,  oh.  iii,  205).  §  396.   Snakes  (Lew.  &  CI.  266)  —  Araucanians 

(Smith,  19,"j-6)—^  rahs  (Lyon,  53) — Chinese  (Du  H.ii,  ISb)— France  (Mon.  — ). 
§  397.  Atnpones  (Dob.  ii.  20^)— Samoa  (Ersk.  107)— Javans  (Raf.  i,  366)— 


RKFERENOES  5 

Mexicam  (GW.  2^)— Kaffirs  (Shoot.  22\)— Samoa  (Erst.  44)— S'taw  (Bowr. 
1,  276)  —  China  (Chin.  Rep.  iv,  157)  — Siam  (Bowr.  i,  1:^7-9)  —  Chinese 
(Du  H.  ii,  177) — Siamese  (La  Loub.  i,  \Q&-7)— Japanese  (Stein.  299-300)— 
Germany  (Ger.  124;  May.  i,  395)  —  France  (Chal.  ii.  31)  —  Samoa  (Tur. 
340).  §  398.  Dacotahs  (r.f.  lost)— Veddahs  (Eth.  S.  "  Trans."  ii,  298) 

^CUna  (Chin.  Rep.  iv,  157).  §  400.   Tupis  (South,  i,  222  ;    Stade, 

145) —  Creeks  (ref.  lost)  —  Nicaragiia  (Ovi.  bk.  xlii,  ch.  1)  —  Fiji  (Wil.  i, 
55)  —  Mexico  (Dur.    i,    102-3)  —  Fiji  (ref.   lost).  §  401     Tupia 

(South,  i,  239)  —  Ouatemala  (Xim.  163,  etc.)  —  Dahometi  (Bur.  ii,  407)  — 
Utambara  (Krapf,  395)— Zulu  (Gard.  91 ;  Shoot.  290)— Kaffir   (Shoot.  99) 

—  Samoa  (Ersk.  44)  —  Mexicans  (Her.  iii,  20 1)  —  Chihchas  (Her.  v,  86)  — 
Peruvians  (Gar.  bk.  iii,  ch.  8)  —  Burmah  {Daily  News,  24  Mar.  1879). 
§  402.  Todas  (ref.  lost)  —  Tartars  (Pink,  vii,  591)  —  Madagascar 
(Ell.  "  Hist."  i,  261)  —  Dahomey  (Bur.  i,  262)  —  Ancient  Mexicans  (Mot. 
81)  —  Kasias  (As.  S.  B.  xiii,  62(1).  §  403.  China  and  Japan  (Ale.  ii, 
843) — Zulus  (ref.  lost) — Nicaraguans  (Squ.  ii,  357-8) — Dahomey  (Bur. 
i,  273)  —  Asia  (Tav.  ii,  24)  —  Zulus  (Gard.  91)  —Japanese  (Mit.  i,  202)  — 
Siam  (Bowr.  i,  275)  —  China  (Hue,  i,  268)  —  Siam  (Pink,  ix,  86)  — 
Russia  (Wahl,  35)  —Dyaks  (St.  John  ii,  103)— Kasias  (As.  S.  B.  xiii,  620) 

—  Bechuana  (Tliomp.  i,  174).  §404.  Teutonic  (Mul.  ii,  280). 
§405.  King  (Mul.  ii,  284) — Abyssinia  (Bru.  iv,  452) — France  (Cher. 
66-7)— Mf'roBingian  (Mich,  i,  174,  note).  §  406.  Samoa  (Tur.  281) 
—Siam  (Pink,  ix,  584  ;  La  Loub.  i,  237)  — Chinese  (Will,  ii,  71 ;  i,  521)  — 
Rome  (Mom.  ii,  368-9) — Mecklenhurgh  (Spen.  i,  44) — Spain  (Ford  "  Hand- 
book," p.  hi).  §  407.  Dahomey  (Bur.  1,  52)~-Bunnan  (Yule,  194)  — 
China  (Will,  i,  317)— Furope  (Ger.  91)— Russia  (Sala,  252).  §  408. 
Ukuni  (Grant,  92)  —  Zulus  (ref.  lost)  —  Uganda  (Speke,  290)  —  Chichi- 
mecs  (Church,  iv,  513)  —  Yucatanese  (Landa,  §  xxix).  §  409.  Japan 
(Busk,  21) — Madagascar  (Ell.  "  Visits,"  — ) — Uganda  (Speke,  375) — Japan 
(Dick.  49) — Hebrews  (Ew.  iii,  73) — Zeus  (Pau.  bk.  ix,  c.  40)  —Franks 
(Wai.  ii,  130;  Greg.  bk.  vii,  ch.  33;  Leb.  xiii,  259-65)  — Araucaniana 
(ref.  lost)  —  Uganda  (Speke,  429)  —  France  (ref.  lost).  §  410. 
Peruvians  (Gar.  bk.  vii,  ch.  6;  Markhani,  54,  note)  —  Sandwich  Is.  (£11. 
"  Hawaii,"  142)  —  Fijians  (U.  S.  Ex.  iii,  79)  —  Chibchas  (Sim.  269)  — 
Mexicans  (Clav.  bk.  vii,  chs.  22  &  24).  §  411.  Thlinkeets  (Banc,  i, 
\09)— China   (Du  H.  i,  278).             §  412.  Africa  (ref.  lost;  Heug.  92-3) 

—  Greeks  (Guhl,  232)— Sandwich  Is.  (Hawk,  ii,  192)  — Tonga  (Hawk.  — ) 
—Fundah  (Laird  \,202)— Arabs  {Y&\. —)—Qaul  (Quich.  2.3-31;  57-66)  — 
Rome  (Guhl,  485) — Madagascar  (Ell.  "  Hist."  i,  279) — iSirt»»  (La  Loub. 
i,  75)— Mongol  (Bell  i,  3ii)— France  (Le  Grand,  ii,  184; — ref.  lost)  — 
China  (Staun.  244) — Japan  (Krem.  43).  §413.  Guatemala  (Ath, 
p.  1537)- Chibchas  (Dr.  24-5)  —  Ciwirt  (Tac.  15)— ^sAanifee  (Dup.  71)  — 
Malagasy  (Ell.  "  Hist."  i,  2S4>)—Dakotas  (Lew.  &  CI.  4=1)—Kukis  (As.  S.  B. 
Xiiv,  646) — Dyaks  (Boyle,  95) — New  Zealand  (Thorn,  i,  164) — Manhint 
(Cat.  i,  101)— Nagas  (As.  S.  B.  viii,  m^-)— Hottentots  (Kol.  i,  19S)—Snaket 
(Lew.  &  CI.  315)— Co»/;o  (Tuck.  3W2)— Chihchas  (Acos.  219  ;  Sim.  253)— 
Peru  (Gar.  bk.  iv,  ch.  11) — France  (ref.  lost) — New  Zealanders  (Hawk,  iii, 
i,o7)—Astrachan  (Bell,  i,  43).  §  414.  Rome  (Mom.  ii,  335,  n. ;  Gulil, 
^97-9)  —France  (ref.  lost).  §415.  Tahitians  (KU.  "Pol.  Res."  ii, 
854) — Rome  (Moni.i,  72) — Mexicans  (Torq.  bk.  xiv,  ch.  4) — Peru  (Gar.  bk.  i, 
ch.  213) — Rome  (Gulil,  A79)— Russia  (Cust.  — ;  Wag.  ii,  21)— Germany 
(Spen.  ii,  176).  §  416.  Lombock  (WaL  i,  341)— ^wrwa  (Yule,  163)  — 
Siam  (Bowr.  i,  125) — Dacotahs  (School,  iv,  69) — Abipones  (Dob.  ii,  106)  — 
Mishmis  (As.  S.  B.  v,  195-6) — Bambaras  (CaiL  i,  377)  — Gold  Coast  (Bos. 
112).  §  417.  Guatemala  (Juar.  194-5) — Tanna  (Tur.  77) — Mexicana 
(Dur.  i,  55;  Her.  iii,  199,)— Hottentot  (Kol.  i,  oO-ol)—E<iiiptians  (Wilk.  iii, 
860-3).  §  418.  Mexico  (Clav.  —)  — Dahomey  (Dal.' 98  ;  Bur.  i,  217)- 
Javan  (Stein.  — )  —  Burmah   (Yule,   139 ;    Sang.  127 ;    Symes  — ,  185-6), 


0  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§419.  CUhchas  (Sim.  2ZZ)— Madagascar   (Ell.  "Hist."  i,  283)— So»naw 

(Gulil,  bVd)— Japan  (Kaem.  70)  —  China  (Will,  i,  40-i; — Turkey  (White,  i, 
i3) — Siam  (BowT.,  i,  117)  —  Congo  (Bust.  57) — Assyrians  (Raw.  i,  4'J5)— 
India  (ref.  lost) — Siam  (Bowr.  i,  425)  —  China  (Gutz.  ii,  278) — Java  (Raf.  i, 
i\2) — Utlatlan  (Torq.  bk.  xi,  ch.  18) — Dahomey  (Waitz,  ii,  87) — Siamese 
(Bowr.  i,  116) — Joloffs  (Bast.  57).  §  420.  Tastnanians  (Bon.  "  Unily 

Life,"  Q^)— Australia  (Sturt,  ii,  54)— A'Aonrf  (ilacph.  b6)— Tahiti  (Ell, 
"  Pol.  Res."  i,  222)— Fijians  (U.  S.  Ex.  iii,  332;  See.  179)— Chibchas  (Siia 
253)  — San  Salvador  (Her.  iv,  149)— Feru  (Acos.  bk.  iv,  ch.  22).  §  421. 

Society  Islands  (Forst.  271) — Fijian  (Ersk,  430) — Sumatra  (Mars.  47) — 
Indians  (rbf.  lost)— Tahiti  (Ell.  "Pol.  Res."  i,  173)— A'ara^MC  (Speke,  210  & 
231)— Tahiti  (Cham.  s.v.  "  A\a,")— Guatemala  (Xini.  157).  §424^ 

Fiji  (— ;  Wd.  i,  39)— Barfur  (ref.  lost)— Burgundy  (Quich.  299)— France 
(Ste.  Beuve,  ref.lost).  §  425.  New  Zealand  (Aug.  i,  319  ;  Thorn,  i,  190). 

§  428.  Abyssinia  (Bru.  vi,  16)  —  Mexicans  (Clav.  bk.  vi,  ch.  20). 
§  429.  Fiji  (Ersk.  462;  Wil.  i,  39  ;  i,  37)— Uganda  (Speke,  298;  Stan,  i, 
369  ;  Speke,  256  &  2oS)—Sia7nese  (Bowr.  i,  43i)— Fiji  (U.  S.  Ex.  iii,  326)  — 
Loango  (Ast.  iii,  226) — Ashantee  (Cruie.  i,  109) — Siamese  (La  Loub.  i,  186 
&  172) — China  (Pink,  vii,  265  ;  Iluc,  "  Chin.  Empire,"  i,  212) — Japan 
(Dick.  45) — Russia  (Cust. — ) — Siamese  (La  Loub.  i,  172;  Bowr.  i,  435) — 
Burma  (Symes,  244)  —  China  (Will,  i,  509 ;  Hue,  "  Chin."  ii,  289). 
§  431.  Jcpan  (ref.  lost)— Hussia  (Cast. —)—Sj)ain  (ref.lost).  §  432. 

China  (.Will,  i,  509). 


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(If   not  otherwise   specified,    London  is   to  be   understood  as  the  place  of 

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Paris,  1823. 
Glitz.— Gutzlair  (Rev.  K.  F.  A.)  China  opened.     1838. 
Guz. — Guzman  {A.  E.  de)  Life  and  Acts,  a.d.   1518  to  1543.     (Hakluyt 

Soc.)     1862. 
Far— Harris  (Sir  W.  C.)  Highlands  of  Ethiopia.     1844. 
Hawk. — Hawkcsv'orMi  (.1.)  .icvount  of  the  royaget  undertaken  for  making 

discoveries  in  the  southern  hemisphere.     1773. 
liny. — Haygarth  (H.  W.)  Recollections  of  hush  life  in  Australia.     1848. 
Hcim. — Heims/cringla ;    or,    Chronicle  of   the    Kings  of   Norway.      Traos. 

from  huorro  Sturleson  by  S.  Luing.     IH14. 


RFFERENCES. 


9 


ffen. — Henderson  (.T.)  JTixfory  of  the  Brazil.     1821. 

Heri. — Hericourt  (Rochet  d')  Seconde  voyage.     Paris,  184f>. 

Her. — Herrera  (Ant.  de)  The  general  hlitory  of  the  continent  and  island*  of 

America.     Trans.      1725-6. 
Beug. — Heuglin  (Th.  von)  Reise  in  das  Qebiet  des  Weissen  Nil.     Leipzig, 

18fi9. 
Hind — Hind  (H.  Y.)  Canadian  Red  River  exploring  expedition.     1860. 
Hi8.--ni8lop  (Rev.  S.)  Aboriginal  tribes  of  the  central  provinces.     1860. 
l[ook — Hook  (Dean  W.  F.)  A  church  dictionary.     1854. 

lli'O — Hue  (L'Abbo)  Travels  in  Tartary,  Thibet,  and  China.     (In  Natioual 
Illustrated  Librarv.) 

,,      The  Chinese  Empire.     Trans.     1855. 

Hutch.— Hutchinson  (T.  J.)  The  Parana.     1868. 

Jai;. — Jagor  (F.)  Travels  in  the  Philippines.     Trans.    1875. 

Jor. — Jornandes   (Episc.  Ravenn.)    iJe  Getarum  sive  Gofhorum   origine  et 

rebus  gestis.     (In  L.  A.  Muratori,   Rerum  Ital.  Script.   Mediol.  1723. 

Tom.  i.) 
Jos. — Jt'sephus  (Flavius)  Works.     Trans.  Whiston.    1825. 
Juar. — .luarros  (Dom.)  Statistical  and  commercial  history  of   Guatemala. 

Trans.     1824. 
Ksem. — Ksempfor  (E.)  Account  of  Japan.     (Universal  Lib.)     1853. 
Kal. — Kalisch  (M.)  Commentary  on  the  Old  Testament — Leviticus.    1867-72. 
Klun. — Klunzinger  (C  B.)  Upper  J£gypt.     1878. 

Knobel — Knobel  (Aug.)  Die  Biicher  Exodtis  und  Leviticus.     Leipzig,  1880. 
Kol. — Kolben  (P.)  Present  state  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.     Traus.    1731. 
Krapf — Krapf  (J.  L.)  Travels,  ifc,  in  Eastern  Africa.     1S60. 
Krasli. — Kraslieninnikov    (S.    P.)    History    of  Kamschatka.     Trans,    by  J. 

Grieve.     Glocester,  1764. 
Krehl — Krehl  (L.)  Ueber  die  Religion  der  Vorislamischen  Araber.    Leipzig, 

1863. 
Kue. — Kuenen  (A.)  The  Religion  of  Israel.     Trans.     1874-5. 
Laird — Laird  (M.)  and   Oldlield  (R.  A.  K.)  Expedition  into   the  interior  of 

Africa,  by  the  Niger.      1837. 
La  Lodb. — La  Loubere  t  M.  de)  Du  royaume  de  Siam  en  1687-8.     Amst.  1691. 
La  Snle — La  Sale   (A.  de)  The  history  of  little  Jehan  de  Saintre.      Trans. 

1862. 
Landa — Landa  (Diego  de)  Relation  des  chases  de  Yucatan.     (In  Collection 

de  documents ;  par  Brasseur  de  Bourbourg,  vol.  iii.      Paris,  1864). 
Lan.— Lander   (Riciiard)   Records   of    Capt.    Clappertoii s    last   expedition. 

1830. 
Leb. — Leber  (C.)  Collection  des  meilleures  dissertations  relatives  <i  I'histoire 

de  France.     Paris,  1826-38. 
Le  Gnind — Le  Grand  d'Aussv  (P.  J.  B.)  Fabliaux  ou  contes  du  Xlle  et  du 

Xllle  .nkcle.     Paris,  1779-81. 
rvliue-ou — Lehuijrou    (J.    M.)     Hlitoire    des   institutions    Carolingiennes. 

Paris,  1813. 
licw. — Lewin  (T.  H.)  Wild  races  of  .louth-ea.ffern  India.    1870. 
Low.  &  CI. — Lewis   (M.)  and   Clarke  ^W.)    "Travels   to   the   source  of  the 

Mis.souri.     1S17. 
Licli.— Licbtensteiii  (H.)  Travels  in  southern  Africa.     Trans.     1812-15. 
Liv. —  Livingstone  (D.)  Missionary  travels  and  researches  in  south  Africa, 

1857. 
Lyon— Lyon  (Capt.  G.  F.)  Travels  in  northern  Africa.     1821. 
Miicph. — Macplierson   (Lieut.)    Report   upon  the  Khonds  of    Oanjam   and 

Cutfnck.     Calcutta,  1842. 
Mai— Malcolm  (Sir  J.)   History  of  Persia.     1815. 
Marcy— Marcy  (Col.  R.  B.)  Thirty  years  of  army  life  on  the  border.     Now 

York.  1866.  ^  ^  j  .f    j 


10  CEREMONIAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

Mar. — Mariner  (W.)  Account  of  the  natives  of  the  Tonga  island*.     1818. 
Miirkhain — Markham   (C.  K.)  Reports  on  the  diicoverj/  of  Feru.     (Hakhiyl 

Soc.)     1S72. 
Mark. — Markliam  CCol.  F.)  Shoofinrj  in  the  Himalavas.     1854. 
Mars. — Marsden  (W.)  Hist  on/  of  Sutnatra.     1811. 
Mart. — Martyr  ab  Angleria  (I'elrus)  De  rebus  oceanivis  Decades  tres^     Galo- 

nia?,  157-1-. 
May. — Mayliew  (H.)  Oermnn  life  and  manners.     18(54. 
Mii-h.— Michclet  (J.)   II i.ttori/ of  France      Trans.     1841-6. 
Mil.— Milno  (Rev.  W.  C.)   Life  in  China.     1858. 
Mitch. — Mitchell  (Sir  T.  L.)    Three  expeditions  into  the  inferior  of  Ea-ttertf, 

Australia.     1839. 
Mit.— Mitford  (A.  B.)   Tales  of  old  Japan.     1871. 
Mol. — MoUien  (Gr.  T.)  Travels  in  the  interior  of  Africa  to  the  sourcea  of  tl^ 

Senegal  and  Oamhia.     Trans.    1820. 
Mom. — Mommseu  (Th.)  Ristory  of  Rome.     Trans.     1868. 
Mons. — Monstrelet  (E.  de)    Chronicles.     Trans.     1840. 
Mor. — Morier  (J.)    Second  jour ne if  through  Persia.     1818. 
Mot. — MotOiinia    (Fr.    T.    Benavente)      Historia    de   los   Indioa   de    Nuena 

Espaua.     (In    Coleccion   de  documentos  para  la  historia   de   Mexico. 

Mexico,  1858.) 
Mov. — Movers  (F.  C.)  Die  Phonizier.     Bonn,  1841-56. 
Moz. — Mozley  (H.  N.)  and  Whiteh!y  (G.  S.)  Concise  laio  dictionary.  1876. 
Mill. — Miiller  (F.  Max)   Lectures  on  the  science  of  language.      1873. 
Nieb. — Niebuhr  (M.)    Travels  through  Arabia.     Trans.     Edinh.  1792. 
Nob. — Noble  (Rev.  M.)   Ilisforg  of  the  College  of  Arms.     1804. 
Nouv. — Nouvelles  annates  des  voyages.     Tomes  9!S,  99.     Paris,  1843. 
Ovi. — Oviedo  y  Valdos   (G.  F.  de)   Historia  general  y  natural  de  las  India.i, 

Madrid,  1851-55. 
Pal. — Palgrave  (W.  Or.)  Narrative  of  a  yearns  journey  through  central  and 

eastern  Arabia.     1865. 
Pall. — Pallas  (P.  S.)    Voyages  dans  les  gouvernements  meridionaux   de   la 

Russie.     Trad.     Pans,  1805. 
Par. — Pardeseus  (J.  M.)  Loi  salique.     Paris,  1843. 

Park — I'ark  (Mungo)    Travels  in  Africa.     (Piiikerton'a  Voyages,  vol.  xvi.) 
Pail. — Pausanias.    JJescription  of  Greece.     Trans.      182  k 
Pax. — Paxton  (G.)  Illustrations  of  Scripture.     Edinb.  1843. 
Pell.— Pelloutier  (S.)   Ristoire  des  Celtes.     Paris,  1770-71. 
Pied. — Piedrahita  (L.  Fernandez  do)  Ristoria  del  mievo  regno  de  Granada. 

Amberos  (1688). 
Pink — Pinkerton  (J.)   General  collection  of  voyages.     1808-14. 
Piz. — Pizarro  (P.)   Relacion  del  descubrimiento  y  conqiii.ita  de  los  reinos  dc 

Peru,  Auo  1571.      (In  F.  Navnrrcte,  Salva  y  15nra;jd:i,  Coleccion  de  docu- 
mentos ineditos para  la  historia  de  EnpaTia.     Madrid,  1814.) 
Por. —  Porter   (Sir   K.   K,)    Travels  in   Georgia,  Persia,   Armenia,    ancuuU. 

Babylonia.     1821-2. 
Pot.— Potter  (J.)   Archmologia  Grtpca.     Edinb.  1827. 
Quich. — Quicli(>riit  (J.)    lli^toire  du  costume  en  France.     Paris,  1876. 
K:if.— Rallies  (Sir  T.  S.)   Ri.'<tory  of  Java.      1817. 
Ram.  — Ramseyer  (F.  A.)  and  tiihne  (J.)  Four  years  in  Ashantee.     Trane. 

1875. 
Raw. — Rawlinson    (p.)    The  five  great   monarchies   of  the    ancient  eastern 

world.     1871. 
Rob. — Roberts  (George)  Social  history  of  the  southern  counties  of  England 

185G. 
Kohlfs — Rohlfs  (G.)   Adventures  in  Morocco.     1874. 
Rose — Rose  (Rev.  H.  J.)    Untrodden  Spain.     1874. 
Re;    G.  S. — Royal  Gcograpliical  Society.   Proceedings,  vol.  X7,     1876. 


REFERENCES.  11 

Uvles—Eules  {7%e)  of  civ!lity.     Trans.     lf^85. 

Saha. — Sahagun   (Bernardino  de)    Historia  general  de  las  cosas  de  nuera 

Esuaua.     Mexico,  1829-30. 
St.  John — St.  John  (Sir  Spencer)  Life  in  the  forests  of  the  far  east.      1862. 
St..  Sim. — Saint  Simon  (Due  de)   Memoires.      Paris,  1839-11. 
Ste   Beuve — Sainte-Eeuve  (C.  A.)   Nouve<iux  Lnndis.     Paris,  1863-72. 
Ste.  Pal. — Ste.  Palaye  (La  Curue  de)  Memoires  sur  Vancienne  chevalerie. 

I'arir,  1781. 
Sula — Sala  (G.  A.)  Journey  due  north.     1858. 
Btiug.  — Sangermano    (Father)   Description  of  the  Burmese  empire.     Tranb. 

Rome,  1833. 
Schoin. — Schomburgk    (Sir  R.   H.)    Reisen  in  Britisch- Ouiana.      Leipzig, 

1847-49. 
School. — Schoolcraft    (H.  R.)   Information  respecting  the  Indian  tribes  of 

the  U.S.     1853-56. 
Scott — Scott    (Sir  W.)    Chivalry,  romance,   and  the  drama.       (In  Miscel- 
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See. — Seemann  (B.)  Viti  ;  a  mission  to  the  Vitian  or  Fijian  islands.     Camb. 

1862. 
Sel. — Selections  from  the  Records  of  Government  of  India.    (Foreign  Depart.) 
Shoot.  — Shooter  (Rev.  J.)    The  Kafirs  of  Natal  and  the  Zulu  country.     1857. 
Sim. — Simon   (P.)    Tercera    {y  cuarta)    noticia.      (in  Lord  Xingsboruugh's 

Antiquities  <f  Mexico,  vol.  viii,  1830.) 
Smith — Smith  (E.  R.)  The  Araucanians.     1855. 
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1849. 
Soph  —Sophocles.     The  Electra.     Ed.  by  R.  C.  Jebb.     1880. 
Soutli.— Southey  (R.)  History  of  Brazil.     1810-19. 

Speke — Speke  (J.  H.)  Journal  of  the  discovery  of  the  source  of  the  Nile.    1SC8. 
Spen. — Spencer  (Capt.  E.)  Germany  and  the  Germans.     1836. 
Squ. — Squier  (E.  G.)  Nicaragua.     1852. 
„ Collt'ction  of  documents  concerning  the  discovery  and 

conquest  of  America.     New  York,  1860. 
Stade — Stade  (Hans)  Captivity  in  Brazil.      Trans.  (Hakluyt  See.)     1874. 
Stan. —  Stanley  (il.  M.)  How  I  found  Livingstone.     1872. 
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Stein. — Steinmetz  (A.)  Japan  and  her  people.     1859. 

Stubbs — Stubbs  (Bp.  W.)  Constitutional  history  of  England.      Oxford,  1874. 
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1833. 
Sully — Sully  (Max.  Due  do)  Memoirs.     Trans.     1774. 
Symes — Symes  (M.)  Account  of  embassy  to  Ava.     1800. 
Tac  — Tacitus  (C.  C.)  Germania.     Trans,  by  John  Aikin.     1823. 
Tav, — Tavernier  (J.   B.)    SLc  voyages  through  Turkey  info  Fersia  and  the 

East  Indies.     Ti'ans.     1678. 
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Mexique.      (In  J'oyages,  Relations,  ^c,  vols,  x,  and  xvi.    Paris,  1S37-  H.) 
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Thomp.,  G. — Thompson  (Col.  Geo.)  The  war  m  Paraguay.     1869. 
Thom. — Thomson  (A.  S.)  The  story  of  New  Zealand.     1859. 
Tliomson — Thomson  (W.  M.)  2%e  Land  and  the  Book.     1859. 
Timk. — Timkowski  (G.)  Travels  through  Mongolia.     Trans.     1827. 
Tocq. —  locqueville  (A.  de)  State  of  society  in  France  before  1789.     Trans. 

1856. 
Tori|. — Torquemada  (J.  de)  Monarquia  Indiana.     Madrid,  1723. 
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1818. 
Tur. — Turner  (Rev.  G.)  Nineteen  years  m  Polynesia.     1861. 


12  CEREMONIAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

Turn. — Turner    (Capt.    S.)  Embassy  to  the  court  of  the   Teshoo  Lama  in 

Thihet.     1800. 
Tyl. — Tylor  (E.  B.).     Researches  into  the  early  history  of  mankind.     1878. 

„        Prhnitive  culture.     lcS71. 

U.  S.  Ex. —  United   States  Exploring   Expedition.      (Coram.   C    Wilkes.) 

Phil.  1845, 
Ur. — Uricoec'hea  (E.)  Memoria   sobre   las   antiguedades   Neo-Oranadina^. 

Berlin,  1S54. 
Tan  Leii. — Van  Lennep  (H.  J.)     Bible  lands,  their  modern  customs  and 

manners.  1875. 
Wag;. —  VNagner  (M.)     Travels  in  Persia,  Georgia,  and  Koordistan.     Trau£». 

1856. 
Wahl— Wahl  (O.  W.)  The  Land  of  the  Czar.     1875. 
Wai. — Waitz  (Geo.)  Deutsche  Verfassungsgeschichte.      Kiel.    Vols,  i  and  ii 

(2nd  ed.),  18G5-70;   vols,  iii  and  iv,  1800-1. 
Waitz — Waitz  (T.)  Anthropologie  der  Natnrrolker.     Leipzig,  1859-72. 
WaL— Wallace  (A.  R.)  The  JUalng  Archipelago.     1869. 
West — West  (J.)  History  of  Tasmania.     Launceston,  Tasmania,  1852. 
Wliar. — Wharton  (J.  S.)  Law  Lexicon.     1876. 
White — White  (C.)  Three  years  in  ' Con.itantinople.     1845. 
Wilk. — Wilkinson  (Sir.  J.  Q-.)  Manners  and  customs  of  the  ancient  Egyptians. 

Ed.  by  S.  Birch,  1878. 
Will. — Williams  (S.  W.)  The  middle  kingdom;  geography,  Sfc.,ofthe  Chinese 

empire.     1848. 
Wil.— Williams  (Rev.  T.)  and  Calvert  (J.)  Fiji  and  the  Fijians.     I860. 
VV'int. — Winterbottom  (T.)  Account  of  the  native  Africans  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Sierra  Leone.     i8o;j. 
Xer. — Xeres  (F.  de)  Account  of  Cuzco.  {^n  Reports  on  the  discovery  of  Peru. 

Trans.     (Hakluyt  Soc.)     1872.) 
Xim. — Ximenes  (F.)  La^  historias  del  origen  de  las  Indios  de  Ouatemala, 

Viena,  1857. 
Yule — Yule  (Col.  H.)  Narrative  of  mission  to  Ava.     1858. 
Zur. — Zurita    (Al.  de)  Rapports  sur  les  differentes  classes  de  chefs  de   In 

Nouvelle-Expa^ne.      (Ill     Voyages,    &c.,     par    H.    Ternaux-Compana. 

Yol.  xL    PuriB,  i84<.g 


REFERENCES. 

(jpbr  explanation  see  the  first  jiage  of  References.') 


POLITICAL  INSTITUTIONS. 

§  437.  Santals  (Hunt.  "Ann."  i,  2\S)—Sowrahs  (Shortt.  Pi.  iii,  38)— 
Todas  (Hark.  18;  Metz,  13  ;  Hark.  \1)—Tij}perahs  (Hunt.  "Stat."vi, 
5S)—3Ia7-ias  [Gonds]  (Glas.  No.  xxxix,  41) — Khonds  (Macph.  vii,  196) — 
Santals  (Hunt.  "Ann."  i,  2\5-Q)—Lepchas  (Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  N.  S.  i,  IW) 
— Bodo  d:  Dhimals  (As.  S.B.  xviii,  745) — Camatics  (Hunt.  "Die."  10) — 
Chakmds  (Hunt.  "  Stat."  vi,  48)— ^'ani^a^s  (Hunt.  "Ann."  i,  215-6  ;  Dalt. 
211')— Bodo  &  Dhimals  (As.  S.B.  xviii,  14:5)— Lepckas  (Hook,  i,  175  ;  Eth. 
Soc.  "Jour."  N.S.  i,  154)— Neio  Guinea  (D'Alb.  45,  48,  58-9)— Fijinns 
(ref.  lost) — Dahomey  (Bur.  i,  195,  note  ;  ii,  190,  note) — Mexicans  (Tern. 
X.  212;  Clav.  bk.  vi^  ch.  18;  Diaz,  ch.  208  ;  Her.  iii,  208-9)— Cent.  Amer- 
icans (Lancia  §  xxiv  ;  Gall,  i,  104  ;  Her.  iii,  223  ;  Pres.  bk.  i,  ch.  iv  ;  Her. 
iv,  \14)—Vcddalis  (Bail,  ii,  228;  Ten.  ii,  445;  Prid.   i,  461).  §  442. 

Dirjqer  Indians  (Kel.  i,  252-3) — Chaco  Indians  (Hutch.  280) — Unyoro 
(Etii.  Soc.  "Trans."  1867,  234-5)— A'cit;  Zealand  {Yi.a.w'k.  iii,  41Qi)—Bclu- 
c/ices  (Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  i,  109) — Greeks  (Cur.  i,  115-6) — CaroUngians 
(Dun.  i,  101).  §  443.  Ecpjptians  (Wilk.  i,  330-336)— i^oHiaw  (Lact. 

CO.  7,  23,  Salv.  bk.  v)— France  (Gniz.  iii,  251-2  ;  Clam,  i,  355-438,  ii, 
160-2.30,  i,  pp.  \xv-vi)—Gwalior  ("The  Statesman,"  Aug.  1880,  218-19) 
— Japan    (ref.    \o&t)— Byzantium    (Gib.    iii,   303,   ch.    liii).  §  446. 

Rome  (Duruy  iii,  126-7)!  §  448.  Bechuanas  (Burch.  ii,  5^2)— Greeks 
(Hom.  "  Iliad,"  bk.  i)— Khonds  (Macph.  43).  §  449.  Scminolcs  and 
Snakes  (School.  "I.T."  v.  260)— P(•rMVi■a?^s(Squi.  "Peru,"  19;  Cie.  ch.xiii) 
— Equatorial  Africa  CC^rant — ) — Abors  (As.  S.B.  xiv,426) — Damaras  (ref. 
\n<^t)—Kookics  (As.  S.  B.  xxiv,  m-^)—Mish.mcrs  (Coop.  228)—Bachapini 
(Burcli.    ii,    512).  §  450.   Bushmen    (Lioh.  ii,   \<d4)—Rork    Veddahs 

(Ten.  ii,  4A0)—New  Zealand  (ref.  lost) — S.  Americans  (Humb.  ii,  412) 
— Athenians  (Gro.  iii,  88) — Romans  (Mom.  i,  65) — Greeks  (Gro.  iii,  77) 
—Rome  (Coul.  "  C.  Ant."  146  ;  Mom.  i,  HI)— India  (Maine,  "  E.  H."  107) 
—Greeks  (Gro.  ii,  312-3).  §  451  Karens  (As.  S.  B.  xxxvii,  \b2)— Hot- 
tentots (Kol.  i,  281)— New  Ccd.  (Tur.  SQ-Q)—Sanioa  (Tur.  29\)—Grcece 
(Gro.  iv,  430;  ii,  359)— i^u/6e  (Bar.  ii,  b\0)— Damaras  (Rov.  G.  S.,  1852, 
159)— Pc/-«  (Onde.  152-3).  §  452.  Patagonians  (Falk.  \2Z)— Chinook^ 
(Kane,  215)  —  Abipone-s    (Dob.   ii,    105) — Balonda    (Liv.   208) — Kukia 


14  POLITICAL    INSTITUTIONS. 

(M'Cull.  xx\ai,  5S) — Amcricnn  Indians  (Morg.  341)— ^r?7rrm  (Bnrt, 
ii,  7*2;  Mart.  "Hist."  i,  343) — Mexicans  (Zur.  — ) — Peru  (Care.  hk. 
iv,  ch.  S,  and  bk.  v,  ch.  9) — Japanese  (Dick.  305).  §  454.  Fuajiani 
([Hawk.]  "  Hawkesworth's  Voyages,"  ii,  p.  5S) — Coronr^/os  (S pi x.  ii,  244). 
§  455.  Bodo  and  Dhinials  (Hodg.  158) — Lrpchas  (Etli.  Soc.  ".Jour." 
N.  S.  i,  147) — Arafuras  (ref.  lost).  §  456.  N.  A.  Indians  (Kane, 
2li-5—Noo(kas  (Banc,  i,  195)— Fern  Pa.r  (Xini.  202S)m-Hondiin(s  (Her. 
iv,  ]:i6)—Di/aks  (.St.  John  — ).  §  457.  Aciv  Zealandcrs  (Thorn,  i,  148) 
—Sandwich  Islands  (Ell.  "Tour"  397)— F/;Y  ( Krsk.  — )-.SVo^  (Maine, 
"E.  I.,'"  V?.?i)— British  (Pear,  i,  \1)—EiiqUsh  (Stubhs,  ii,  '^^'X)— Scotland 
(Innes.   "Mid.  Ages,"  141-2).  §  458.  Er/yiyt  (Shar.  i,  189;  Ken.  ii, 

4:2')— Rome  (Mom.  i,  95) — Germans  (Stubbs,  i,  Si)— English  (Keni.  i, 
(59;  Hall.  "M.  A."  ii,  295)—Ef/i/ptians  (Wilk.  i,  150,  \wte)—Eonian 
(Coul.,  Revue,  xcix,  2A.Q)— England  (Hall.  "  M.  A."  ch.  ii,  pt.  1  ;  Kee. 
i,  34-6).  §  459.  Danish  (Niaine,   "  E.   I."  84-5)— il/cr/.   Eur.  (Free. 

"N.  C."   i,   96-7).  §460.    FIjians    (See.    179;    Wilkes,    iii,    73-4) 

—Semdwich  Islanders  (YA\.  "Tour"  7-S)—Tahitians  (Ell.  "Pol,  Res." 
ii,  IG)— Africa  (Rea.  241).  §  461.  Sandwich  Islanders  (Ell.  "  Tour." 
392-3).  §  462.  China  (Gutz.  ii,  305-6)— i^rrtwcc  (ref.  lost;  Warn,  i, 
.549-50) — Hottentots  (Thonip.  ii,  30)—Bcchuanas  (Burch.  ii,  .347)— 
Chinooks  (Wai.  iii,  338) — Albania  (Bou<i,  iii,  254) — Birth,  &c.  (Maine, 
"E.  H."  \M)— France  (A.  L.  F.  ii,  645).  §  464.  Ausfralicina 
(Sm.  i,  103) — Chippewas,  (Jcc.  (School.  "Travels,"  MO-\)—Cent.  A'ner. 
(Banc,  i,  102)—Khonds  (Macph.  32  and  27)— New  Zca.  (Thorn,  i,  95) 
—Tuhitians  (Ell.  "P.  R."  ii,  363)— Maf%.  (Ell.  "  M."  i,  .378)- 
Phoinicians  (]\Iov.  ii,  pt.  i,  M\)— Greeks  (Gro.  ii,  92) — Pr.  Ger.  (Tac. 
in  Free.  "  Eng.  Const."  17)— /cr/aw/ (Mall.  291-3)— .sW.s,?!  Free.  "  E.  C." 
pp.  1.7)—0ld  Eng.  (Free.  "  E.  C."  60).  §  466.  Greenlanders  (Crantz, 
1,  IQA-b)- Australians  (Sturt,  —)-Sali.sh  (ref.  lost;  Doni.  ii,  343-4)— 
Bodo  and  Dhimals  (Hodg.  159) — Austrcdians  ((irey,  ii,  2\0)— Snakes 
(L.  and  C.  .306) -CAi«oo/b  (L.  and  C.  US)—Dakotas  (School.  "  I.  T." 
ii,  \S2)— Creeks  (School.  "I.  T."i,  2:-y)—Khirgiz  (Wood,  SSS^—Osfi/aks 
''"Rev.  Sib."  ii,  269)— Nagas  (But.  146)— A'or.  Hottentots  (Thonip.  ii, 
m— Kaffirs  (Lich.  i, 286-7).  §  467.  Tupis  (Sou.  i,  2oO)—Jiu(ngs  (l)alt. 
156)— A'or.  Hottentots  (Thomp.  ii,  SO)— Kaffirs  (Shoo.  \02)—I)aniaras 
'ref.  losti — Araucanians  (Smith,  24',i)—Di/aks  (Broo.  i,  \29)—M alar/a sif 
(Ell.  "  H.  M."  i,  UQ)— Savages  (Lubh.  44,5).  §  468.  Arafuras  (Kolff, 
161)— A'AiV(jr/2  (Mich. — )—Sumatrans  i^l&r^.  2\1)—Madag.  (Ell.  "  Hist, 
Madag."  i,  377  — East  Afrio'ins  (Bur.  "  C.  A."  ii.  3()1) — javans  (Raff,  i, 
^4)—Siwuitra  (Mars.  2\1)—Ashantee  (Beech.  90-1),  §  469.  Congo 
(Pink,  xvi,  577) — Duhomans  (Bur.  i,  263),  §  471.  Nicohariuns  (Bast 
iii,  SS4)—Huidahs  (Banc,  i,  168) — Californians  (Banc,  i,  348) — .Navajot 
(Banc.  1.  508) — Angamies  (As.  S.  B.  xxiv,  QoO— Lower  Californians  (Banc 
i,  505) — Flathcads  (Banc,  i,  275) — Sound  Indians  (Banc,  i,  217) — Lower 
Californians  (Banc,  i,  565) — Chipj7cwa>/ans  (Frank.  \oO)^Abipones  (Dob 
ii,    'i02)— Bedouins  (Ram.     9).  §472.   Khonds   (Camp.   50)— C««<. 

India  (Fors.  9) — Esquimaux  (ref.  lost") — Fucgians  (Fitz.  ii,  179) — Rock 
V'ddahs  (Ten.  ii,  440)— Di/aks  (ref.  lost)— Car/6s  (Edw.  i,  49) — Bushmen 
;Lich.  ii,  194) — Tasmanians  (Lloyd,  56;  Dove,  i,  253) — Tapajos  (Bates 
2fl2?,y -Bedouins  (Bur.  "El  Med."  iii,  44)— Greece  (Gro.  ii.  87)— -S'co<. 
(Martin,  M.  101)  Snake  Indians  (L.  and  C.  SO(i)—Creeks  (School. 
"I.  T."  V,  279)— Co7na«c/t&y  (School.  "T.  T."  ii,  UO)—Coroadcs  (Spix, 
li,  2S4)—0styaks  ("  Rev,  Sib."  ii,  2m)— Tacullies  (W.mc.  i,  \2S)—Tolnraa 
(Hanc.  i,  MS)—Spokanes  (ref.  h)Ht) —6)  — Narajos  (Banc,  i,  .5(),S)— 
Dors  (HiMig.  ]m)— Arabs  ( Burck.  1,  SOO)— Sumatra  (Mar.s.  211). 
%  473.    Australians  (Eth.   Soc.   Trans.,   N.    S.,    iii,    2oQ)—Conmnchet 


EEFEKENCE8.  15 

fSchool.  "I.  T.^i,  1Zr)—Flatheads  (Banc,  i,  275)— Z)//«^-5  (Low,  209; 
St.  John  — ) — Caribs  (Edw.  i,  49) — Abijwyies  (Dob.  ii,  lOS^^Egi/pt 
(Tay.  16)— i?o//ie  (Mom.  i,  79)— Germans  (Sohm  i,  9)— French  (Kanke,  i, 
75).  §  474.  Thlinkeets  (Banc,  iii,   U8)—Fitegians  (Fitz.   ii,   178)— 

Tasmaniuns  (Bon.  175) — Uaidahs  (Banc,  iii,  150) — Dakotas  (Scliool, 
•'I.  T."  iv,  '^95)— Amazulu  {C&W.  340,  note  86)- 066o  (Bak.  i,  318-9)— 
3Iexicans  (Banc,  iii,  295  ;  Clav.  Lk.  vii,  ch.  7) — Chibchas  (Pied.  Lk.  ii, 
eh.  l)—Ef/i/pt  (Bmg.  i,  406 )— Jeit'5  (Sup.  Rel.  i,  117-18).  §475.  F;/!/pt 
(Sliar.  ii,  2) — Coroados  (Spix,  ii,  244-5) — Saiitals  {H-ant.  "Ann."  i,  210-7) 
—Khonds  (iMacph.  47).  §  476.  Haidahs  QisMC.  i,  167^— iyV  (See.  232) 
—Tahitians  (Ell.  "P.  R."  ii,  346;  Hawk,  ii,  121)— ilfac/a^ascar  (Ell. 
"H.  M."  i,  M1-'S)—Congocse,  (ref.  lost)— C'o«.s-«  Negroes  (ref.  lost) — 
I.dand  Negroes  (ref.  lost) — Peru  (Gom.  ch.  124 ;  Garc.  bk.  iv,  ch.  9) — 
Eggpt  (Wilk.  i,  161  note ;  162  not^)— Ceylon  (Ten.  i,  497  ;  ii,  459)— A'ew 
Caledonia  (ref.  lost) — Madagascar  (Ell.  "  H.  M."  i,  342) — Abyssinia 
(Bru.  iv,  4SS)—Timmanecs  (Wint.  i,  124)— Kaffir  (Arb.  149)— Arugon 
(Hall,  ii,  43-4).  §  477.  Amazulu  (Call.  208  ;   Z9Q)—Kukis  (As.  S.B. 

xxiv,  Qlo)— Tahitians  (Ell.   "P.Pt."ii,  341)— Tow^a  (Mar.  ii,  76)— Peru 


ns 


(ref.  lost) — Borneo  (Low,    183) — Sabincs  (ref.  lost  — Germans  (Dnnh.  i, 


xxxvii,  imj — i^ongo  t_i>asi.  •- ai.  ix.  oo^ — i ariua,  (^i^an.  \\,'Z'i6y — lou 
(All.  and  T.  i,  I'i4)—Kukis  (But.  9\)— Greeks  (Glad,  iii,  51-2)— i?om*{ 
(ref.  lost) — Europe  (ref.  lost)  —  French  (Hall.  ch.  i) — Merovingians 
(Wai.  ii,  45-6,  —)— i^rance  (Meray,  45;  Boss,  ii,  .56  ;  St.  Sim.  iii,  69). 
§  479.  Zulus  (Eth.  Soc.  "  Trans."  iSf.  S.,  v,  29\)—Bheels  (Mai.  "  C.  L"  i, 
551)— iortwr/o(Ast.  iii,  223  ;  Pink,  xvi,  577)— East  Africa  (Bur.  "C.  A."ii, 
361)— ilf.srtA«6rtra(Krapf,  3S4note)— Z)rt/;ome  (Bur.  \,2-26)—M(dagasti (YA\. 
♦'  H.  M."  i,  Z4\)— Sand ivich  Islands  (Ell.  "  Tour,"  4Q\)—Siam  (Bowr.  i, 
422-S)— Bur mah  (Sanj^.  5S)— China  (Gutz.  ii,  2ry])— Japan  (^Ad.  i,  11). 
§480.  ro?j(7a  ( Ersk.  ]26)—Gondar  (lla,r.  iii.  10,  '^4)—Blwtan  (Ken.  16- 
17)— Japan  (Ad.  i,  74,  17;  Tits.  223;  Ad.  i,  11,  70)— Meroimir/ian  (Egin. 
123-4).  §  483.  Arafvras  (Kolff,  161)— 7'orfo,9  (Eth.  Soc.  "  Trans."  N.  S., 
vii,  241) — Bodo  and  Dhinidls  (As.  S.B.  xviii,  708) — Papuans  (Kolff.  6 
Karl  — ) — Bodo  and  D.  (ref.  lost)— Lepchas  (Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  July, 
1869)-A'"agras(As.  S.  B.  xxiv,  608-9;  ix,  950)— A^.  A.  Indians  (School. 
"L  T."ii,  183)— 6'omanc/«C5  (School.  "I.  T."  ii,  130;  Banc,  i,  509)— 
Central  America  (Squi.  "Nic."  ii,  340-1) — Nagas  (As.  S.  B.  xxiv,  607) — 
Africa  (Bur.  "  Abeo."  i,  276).  §  485.  Greece  (Toz.  284-5  ;  Henu.  14  ; 

Gro.  ii,    \0S)— Scotland  (Ske.  iii,   323-4)— Cre^e  (Cur.  i,  182;    178-9)— 
Corinth 
87 
Mc 
603 

22 ;  8.3),  §  488.  Sparta  (ref .^lost ; 'Gro.  li,  90)  -Pome  (Slom.  ii,'326)— 
Ital.  Eepub.  (Hall,  i,  368;  Sis.  [Lard.]  2S0)— Holland  (May,  ii,  17-18)— 
Berne  (May  i,  37S)— Venice  (Sis.  [Lard.]  12\)—Grcere  (Gro.  iii,  25} 
Cur.  1,  250)— Eo77ians  (Macch.  iii,  429)— Ital.  Rcpub.  (Sis.  [Lard.]  80)— 
Athcm  (Gro.  iii,  181-5) — Pome  OL)m.  bk.  i.,  ch.  4,  passim) — Italian 
Bepuh.  (May,  i,  281-2).  §490.  Samoa  (Tur.  2S4)—Fulahs{l..  and 

O.  ii,  85)— Mandingo  (Park  i,  15).  §491.  Italian  Pep.  (Sis.  [Lard.] 
2l-2)—Polcs  (Dunii.  278;  285)— Hungarians  C  f^tn y,  \iS5)-^  Germans 
(Stubbs,  i,  63)— il/e?-w<;.  (llicli.  \\9--0)—Appcnzal  (Lav,  65)— i//*  LEree. 


16  POLITICAL    INSTITUTIONS. 

"E.  C."  7)—Scanilinavta  (C.  and  W.,  i,  157-8;  ref.  losf)— Tatars  (Gib. 
ii,  16)— Sparta  (Gro.— ).  §  492.  KaJ/irs  (Lich.  i,  2SQ)—Be.chu(nia^ 
qSIoA:'.  66)  — Wani/amwezi  (Bur.  "  C.  A."  ii,  362) — Ashantee  (Beech.  91) 
—Mexico  (Zur.  106  ;  Clav.  bk.  vii,  cli.  13)— Fcra  Paz  (Tor.  bk.  xi,  cli.  20) 
—Poland  (Dunh.  278,  21Q-S0)—Gfnnan.<!  (Hall,  ii,  93)— i^ra/u;e  (ref. 
lost.)— TI/arfrtflT.  (Ell.  "H.  M."  ii,  2:^2)— Hebrews  (1  Samuel,  ch.  xv) - 
Titkitiatis  (Ell.  "P.  R."ii,  489i — Mexicans  C^aUo,.  bk.  viii,  ch.  24) — Eqi/jit 
rWilk.  i,  159)— France  (Koth,  317-20).  ^  493.  lJenmark(C.  and  W.  i, 
262.y}— France  (Rich.  119-20)— il/arfrtr/.  (Ell.  "  H.  M.,"  i,  SlS)—Enfjland 
(Free.  "E.G."  60).  ^  494.  Egi/pt  ( Wilk.  i,  160  note)— Persui  (Raw.  iii, 
223)— 6V«/(rt( Will.  i,324)~-Fra«ct;( Boss.  ii,r.6,l  13,v,4;  Pul.  1,8-9;  St.  Sim. 
iii,  69)— Rome  (Mom.  i,  71-2;  iii,  361)— Poland  (Dunh.  282).  §  496. 

Scandinavia  (C.  and  W.,  i,  1C8) — Hungary  (Patt.  i,  66;  253) — Rome 
(Dur.  iii,  376-8).  §498.  Greece  (Gro.  iii,  124-5;  iv,  \69)—Itali/  (Sis. 
[L.]  23  ;  291)  -Spain  (Dunh.  iv,  \5S)—F nr/land  (Hume,  ii,  54).  §  499. 
Spain  (Hall.  ii.  1  -S)— France  (ref.  lost)— Scotland  (Burt,  ii,  85).  §  500. 
Scandinavia  (Mall.  291-5)— France  (Mor.  3~9-S0)—En(jland  (Stubbs,  i, 
4i8-9)— Holland  (Mot.  i,35)— Anglo-Sax.  (Stubbs,  i,  192)— S'joftm  (Dunh. 
iv,  \5S)— England  (Stubbs,  i,  450).  §  501.  England  (Hume,  i,  466-7  ; 
Stubbs,  i,  131)— France  (Hall,  i,  230)— .S>«m  (Hall,  ii,  25,  29)— France 
(Dar.  "  Ad."  ii,  57-8 ;  Clam.  ii.  3-4  ;  Dar.  "  Ad."  i,  78) — Scotland  (Innes, 
"  Leg.  An.,"  116).  §  502.  Fra7ice  (Ord.  ii,  201)— Hungari/  (Ldvy,  165) 
— Scotland  (Innes,  "heji.  An.,"  \19)—England  (Hnme,  — ).  §504. 
Eggpt  (Wilk.  iii,  371)— Pcma  (Raw.  iii,  221)— England  (Kem.  ii,  105-11) 
— Hebrews  (Ew.  iii,  266-1)— Rome  (Dur.  iii,  175) — France  (Gon.  — ) — 
Eggarahs  (All.  and  T.  i,  321)—Miztcca  (Her.  iii,  265).  §  505.  Normans 
and  Old  English  (Stubbs,  i,  390)— Scot.  (Innes,  "Mid.  Ajres,"  120-1)- 
Russia  (Fowl,  i,  379) — France  (Jer.  ii,  158-9;  Kit.  iii,  210) — Enrjland 
(Turn,  vi,  132).  §  508.  Tahiti  (Ell.  "P.  R."  ii,  —)—En</land(Kem.  ii, 
H2)— France  (Gui.  iii,  233-4:)— Mexico,  Ac.  (Zur.  66-l)—C'hibchas  (Acos. 
lSS-90)— Med.  Europe  (Maine,  "  V.  C. "  235-6).  §  509.  England  (Free. 
"  N.  C."i,  80;  Fis.  301 ;  Hall.  "M.  A."ch.  viii).  §  510.  Feudal  (Maine, 
"E.  I."  n)—Fratice  (Mau.  cvii,  5S4)—Persian-s  (Raw.  iii,  418;  426)— 
Borne  (Dur.  v,  83-4)— Fraiice  (Tliie.  i,  365-6;  Cher.  "  Hist."  ii,  138-9)— 
England  (HaAl.  "  C.  H."  ch.  xii).  §511.  Bedouins  (Bnrck.'^  Notes"  5; 
Pal.  "  Encv.  Brit."  ii,  249)— Irish  (Maine,  "  E.  I."  105-6)— Albania 
(Bond,  ii,  86 ;  iii,  359)— England  (You.  147).  §  512.  Mexico  (Zur.  50  62) 
—Russ^ia  {Lav.  8,  9)— Teutons  (Stubbs,  i,  56  ;  Cii's.  vi,  22  ;  Kem.  i,  56-7) 
— Bakioains  (Liv.  14) — Japan  (Ale.  ii,  241) — Franks  (Kem.  i,  238) — 
England  (Thor.  i,  274  ;  3S6;450)— Russia  (Kou.  229).  §  513.  England 
(Kem.  i,  240-3;  Stubbs,— )—Perw (Pres.  12)— Mexico  (Clav.  bk.  vii,  oh.  5  ; 
Gom. — ) — Eg  apt  (Heer.  ii,  139; — Greece  (Herm.  10) — China  (Will,  i, 
388) — India  (Gho.  passim) — Scandinavia  (ref.  lost ;  Bren.  Ixviii) — 
England (liren.  Ixix-lxx.)  §  516.  Siam.  (Loub.  i.  237 ) — Ashante  ( Ikeoh. 
129,—Fulahs  (L.  and  O.  ii,  87)— Rome  t  Mom.  i.  99-100).  §  517.  Sucvi 
Btulibs,  i,  15).  §  518,  Guaranis  (Waitz,  iii,  422) — Nicaragua  (ScjuL 
•'  Nic."  ii,  342) — New  Zealaml  (ref.  lost) — Bedouins  (Burck.  — )— 
Tahiti  (F^)rf^t.  .377) — Hebrews  (2  Sam.  xxi,  17) — Carolingian  (Wai.  iv,  .522) 
—Japan  (Ad.  i,  \5)—Peru  (Pre.s.  35).  §  519.  Hottentots  (Kol.  i,  85)— 
Malagasyi  Ell.  "H.  M." ii,253)—Chibchas(i^\m.  269)— A'o/«c(Coul.  "C.  A." 
158) — Germans  (iit\i\}bs,\.,  34) — Old  England  (Kem.  i.  69) — France  (Kit.  i, 
399;  Frois.s.  i,  \6S)— Sparta  (Gro.  —)—Rome  (Mom.  i,  98-9).  §  520. 
France  (Ranke,  i,  83).  §  522.  Chinooks  (Waitz,  iii,  33S)— Arabs  (B'lr. 
*'  El  Med."  iii,  47)— /^»^/  (Sis.  [L.]  90)— France  (Maine,  Fort.  Rev.  614) 
—England    ( Ree,    i,    ]53-4)—France   (Gui.—).  §   523.    Hottentots 

(Kol.  i,  294  6)— Greece  (Gro.  ii,  99-100)— Rome  (Mom.  i,  159)—Germaius 


EEFERENCES.  1 7 

(Tac  cap.  xi,  xii)  — Danes  (C.  and  W.  i,  263)— 7rM  (I,es.  xvii,  312) 
§  524.  Hehrexvs  (Deut.  xxi,  19) — Romans  (Mom.  i,  158) — France  (Join. 
\0-\\)— Carol ingian  (Mor.  379-80;  Sohm,  i,  §  \Q)—Frieslunders  (j^i. 
lost)— Holland  (Lav.  282-3).  §  525.  Ztilus  (Arb.  UO)—Fggara/is  (All. 
and  T.  i,  326) — Germans  (Tac.  c.  7) — Scandinavia  (Grimm,  i,  y.S)  §  526 . 
Peru  (Her.  iv,  331)— Germany  (Dunh.  1,  120)— France  (Bav.  i,  70-1)— 
Scotland  (Innes,  "L.  A."  22])— England  {Htuhbs,  i,  U3,  673)— France 
(Hal,  i,  239).  §  527.  Bedouins  ("Kam.  in  Syria,"  9)— Mexicans 
(I>ur.  i,  216)— Athe7is  (Cur.  ii,  450) — France  and  dernmny  (Black,  iii, 
41)— i Vance  (Due.  11-12;  A,  L.  F.,  v,  346-7;  Dar.  ''  KA."  —)— England 
(l-'is.  238  ;  Stubbs,  ii,  2il2).  §  528.  Court,  d:c.  (Maine,  "E.  I.  "289). 

§  529.  Sandwich  I.  (Ell.  3m)—Bechua7ias  (ref.  lost)— Aaren*  (As.  S.  B. 
xxxvii,  131) — France  {Kfsmgs..  186).  §530.  Scandinaviu  (}<la.\\.  Wl') 

—Egyjit  (Re(!.  ii,  11  ;  xii,  48)— Pcr?t  (Santa  C.  107  ;  Gar.  bk.  i,  ch.  23)— 
Tahi'tians  (Ell.  "P.R."ii,  23b)—Todas  (Metz,  ll-18)—Hebrcios(2^a.m.  v. 
22-25)— India  (Maine,  "A.  L."  18)— Greece  (Gro.  ii,  111-2;  Herm.  48)— 
France  (Hinc.  ii,  201).  §  531.  Assyrians  (Lav.  ii,  473-4) — Greeks  (Tie. 
217  ;  Coul.  221)— Eg y2}tO\ ilk.  i,  164).  §  532."  Zulus  (Arb.  161  note)— 
Peru  (ref.  lost) — Mexicans  (Tern,  x,  IS)— Japan  (ref.  lost) — France 
(Greg.  bk.  vii,  ch.  21) — Peruvians  (Garc.  bk.  ii.  ch.  12) — Japan  (Ale.  i, 
63)— Eome  (Mom.  i,  159)— 5a^tc  (Gui.  i,  'i64:)— Scotland  (Innes,  "Mid. 
Ages,"  191)— England  (Stubbs,  i,  211).  §  533.  Cliippeicayans  (School. 
"I.  T."  V,  \ll)—Shoshones(Ba.nc.  i,  435)— iTaw/a/**- (Banc,  i'  16S)— Sand- 
wich I.  (Ell.  "Tour,"  400)— (Greece  (Gro.  ii,  107,  1 10, 129)— i?ome  (Maine, 
"A.  L."  372;  Mom.  ii,  130)— Basutos  (Arb.  31)— Abyssinia  (Par.  ii, 
'ia^-b)  —  Sumatra  (Mars.  2'^9)—Dakotas  (School.  "I.  T."  ii,  185)— A'. 
Americans  (Kane,  115) — Dakotas (Movfr,.  331) — Araucanians  (Thomps.  i, 
405).  §  536,  Bushmen  (Lich.  ii,  194) — Chippewayans  Banc,  i,  118) — 
Arawaks  (Koy.  G.  S.  ii,231).  §  537.  Ahts  (Banc,  i,  191)— Comanches 
(School.  "L  T."  i,  232)— Brazilians  (Koy.  G.  S.  ii,  195-6) — Chippewayans 
(School.  "L  T."  V,  HI)— Bedouins  (ref."  lost).  §  538.  Ecchabites,<t-c. 
(Ew.iv, 79-80;  Kue.  i,  181-2)— Da kotas (School  "LT."ii,  185)— Comanches 
(School.  "L  T."  ii,  131)— Iroquois  (Morg.  326)— ^ecA(/««as(Burch.  ii,531) 
— Damaras  (And.  114-15)  —  Kafirs  (Shoot.  16) — A'oosas  (Lich.  i,  271) — 
New Zecdanders  (Thorn,  i,  96) — Sumatrans  (Mars. 244-5) — Mexicans  (Sart. 
^8)— Damaras  (And.  147)— rof/«A- (Marsh.  206)— C'on^o  (Pink.  xvi,168)— 
Slavs  (Lav.  18^— Swiss  (Lav.  82)— Hebrews  (Mayer,  i,  362  note) — Borne 
(Mom.  i,  160,  193)— Teutu7is  (Stubbs,  i,  56).  §  539.  Drenthe  (Lav.  282) 
— Ardennes  (Lav.  301)  —  Lombardy  (Lav.  215) — France  (lja.\ .  212)— 
Abyssinia  (^vwce,  iv,462) — Kongo  (Ast.  iii  ,2.58) — Mexico  (Tern,  x,  253-4) 
■—Iceland  (Mall.  2S9)—Swiss  (Lav.  83).  §  540.  Slavs  (Lav.  189;  194-5) 
—Lombardy  (Lav.  216).  §  542. Dakotas (School.  "I.  T."  iv, 69)— ^6i- 
pon€s  (Dob.  ii,  106)— Patagonians  (Falk.  123) — Greece  (Gro.  ii,  84  ;  85)-- 
Gertnans (T&c.  xv) — England  (Dyer  3)  —Guaranis  (Wai.  iii,  422)— i^o;//c 
(Mom.  — ).  §543.  Loango  (Pink,  xvi,  511)—Tongans  (Mar.  i,  231 
note)— Cashmere  (Drew  68-10)— Kaffirs  (Shoot.  104)— Sandv^ich  Islands 
(Ell.  "  Tour,"  292)— il/extco  (Zur.  250-1)— Yucatan  (Landa  §  xx)— Gw(t<e 
tnala,  d-c.  (Zur.  401)— Madagascar  (Ell.  "  M."  i,  316)— i'/>/  (See.  232)-- 
Tahiti  (K\L  "P.  K."ii,361).  §  544.  England  (Htnhhs  ii,  612-3).  §  545. 
Quanga  and  Balonda  (Liv.  296,  301)—Bhils  (Mai.  i,  "C.  1."  551-2  j 
\85)—Mexico  (Clav.  bk.  vii,  ch.  31)— Greece  (Glad,  iii,  62;  Pot.  90)— 
Engla^id  (hin^.  iii,  1).  §  557. /'ra/jce  (Dai-.  "CI.  Ag."  537).  §658. 
Amei-icans  (Hearne,  151)— Dahomey  (Bur.  i,  220-5  ;  226  ;  Dalz.  175  ;  Bur. 
1,  52,  note) — Peru  (Gar.  bk.  ii,  chap,  xv  ;  bk.  vi,  chap,  viii  ;  bk.  v,  cliup. 
xi)— Egypt  (iiha,T.  i,  188;  Ihng.  i,  51 ;  Shar.  i,  182)— Sparta  {Gvo.  vol. 
ii,  pt.  ii,  chap.  \i)—Iiusna(Cu»t.ii,2;  Wal.  289;  Cust.— ;  Bell,  ii,  237). 


18  K)LITICAL    INSTITUTIONe. 

§  559.  Rotn«(DnT.  iii,  155-60;  iii,  1S3-7,  9  ;  iii,  173-4  ;  iii,  172-3, ;  iii,  176) 

—Italy  (Sis.  [Lard.]  S-9).  §  560.  Greeks  (Gro.  ii,  88)— Jajattn  (Mit.  i, 
Z2T)— France.  (Corn,  xxvii  (1873),  12)— Montenegro  (Boue,  ii,  86)— 
Dahomey  (For.  i,  20) — Sparta  (Thirl,  i,  329) — Merovingian  (Amp.  ii,  305; 
re;:,  lost) — Dahomey  (Bur.  ii,  iAS)— Japan  (M.  and  C,  'Si)— Egypt 
(AN'ilk.  i,  1S9)— Persia  (Raw.  iii,  2-i2)—Aravcania7is  (Tliomps.  i,  406)- 
fiji  ( Ersk.  464)— Z)aAowe(/  (Dalz.  69)  —Egypt  (Brug.  i,  53).  §  573.  Todas 
(^Sliortt,  pt.  i,  9) — Pueblos  (Banc,  i,  546)  —  Karens  (Gov.  Stat.  6t ; 
:>lcM.  S[)—Lepcha.s  (Hook,  i,  129-30;  Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  N.  S.  i,  150-1) 
— Santdls  (Hunt.  "Ann."  — ;  "Stat."  xiv,  330) — Shervarotj  (Sliortt, 
pt.  ii,  7;  42)— rorfow  (Shortt,  pt.  i,7-9;  Hark.  Id-ll^-Ara/uras  (Kollf. 
181-3) — England  (Hall.,  cliaj).  viii) — France  (Lev.  ii,  48) — England 
(Free.  "Sk."  232;  Bage.  2Sl)  —  France  (Taine,  jaossiwi) — England 
(.Mart.  "Intro."  17;  Buck.  vol.  ii,  ch.  5;  Pike,  ii,  574).  §574. 
Bodt  and  D.  (As.  S.  B.  xviii,  745-6) — Lepchas  (Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  N.  S.  i, 
152) — SaatdlOlnnt.  "  Ann."  i,  209;  As.  S.B.  xx,  554) — Jaknns  (Fav. 
ii,  266-7)— -Korfe  a?idD.  (^As.  S.B.  xviii,  745)  -Neilgherry  H.  (Ouch.  69)— 
Lepchas  (Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  N.  S.  i,  \aiy)—Jaka}is  (Fav.  ii,  266)— 
Arafuras  (Kolff.  IQl-Z)— Lepchas  (Eth.  Soc.  "Jour."  N.  S.  i,  150-1; 
Hook,  i,  176)— 5a;i(!«'/.«  (Hunt.  "Ann."i,  217)  - //'W  (Dalt.  20^)— Todas 
(Shortt,  pt.  i,  1) — Sliervaroy  H.  (Shortt,  — ) — Jakuns  (Fav.  ii,  266) — 
Malacca  (Jukes,  219-20) — Bodo  and  D.  (As.  S.B.  xviii,  745) — Santdl 
(Hunt.  "Ann."  i,  209-10)— Zc^cArtA- (Hook,  i,  176,  \29)— Jaknns  (Pav.  ii, 
266) — Arafuras  (Kolfl".  163-4) — Lepchas  (Hook,  i,  134) — Santdls  (Hunt. 
"Ann."  208) — Bodo  and  Dhitnals  (As.  S.B.  xviii,  708) — Santdl  (Hunt,  i, 
2\1)—Bodo  and  Dhiinals  (As.  S.B.  xviii,  Hi)— Todas  (Eth.  Soc 
"  Trans."  vii,  254). 


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2) 


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Crantz — Crantz  (David)  Histori/  of  Greenland.    Trans.     1820. 

Cur.— Cuitius  (E.) //wVory  o/ Greece.     Trans.     1868-73. 

Cust. — Custine  (Marquis  A.  de)  Empire  of  the  Czar.     Trans.     1843. 

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France.     Paris,  1848. 
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),  ,,        History  of  Spain  ,,  ,,  1832. 

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,,  ,,  ,,     Transactions.     1859-69. 

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EEPEEENCE8.  21 

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22  POLITICAr    INSTITUTIONS. 

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1872. 
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